MRS.  TREE'S   WILL 


Handy   Volume    Editions 
of  Copyrighted   Fiction 

BY 

LAURA    E. 
RICHARDS 

* 
MRS.  TREE'S  WILL     .     .     $  .75 

MRS.  TREE 75 

GEOFFREY   STRONG      .         .75 

FOR  TOMMY 75 

LOVE   AND    ROCKS    .     .         .75 
CAPTAIN  JANUARY    .     .         .75 

t$t 

Tall  idmos,  Individual  Cover 
Designs.     Illustrated. 

* 

DANA  ESTES  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
ESTES   PRESS,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


RS.  TREE'S 
WILL 


By 

Laura  E.   Richards 

Author  of 

"Captain    January,"  "Melody,"    "Marie,"  "Mrs. 

Tree,"  etc. 


Boston 

Dana  Estes  &  Company 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1905 
BY  DANA  ESTES  &  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


MRS.  TREE'S  WILL 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

Electroiyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &*  Ce. 
Boston,   U.  S.  A  . 


TO 
MT    DAUGHTER 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  WILL  ITSELF     .         .         .         .11 

II.  WHAT  THE  MEN  SAID       ...       33 

III.  WHAT  THE  WOMEN  SAID          .         .       51 

IV.  MOSTLY  GOSSIP.         ....       79 
V.  IN  Miss  PENNY'S    SHOP     .         .         .95 

VI.  THE  SORROWS  OF  MR.  HOMER          .     Ill 

VII.  CONCHOLOGY    AXD    OTHER    THINGS     .       130 

VIII.  MR.  PINDAR 147 

IX.  "  QUAND  ON  CONSPIRE  "   .         .         .     164 

X.  A  PLEASANT  HOUR    ....     186 

XL  SPINNING  YARNS        .         .         .         .199 

XII.  Miss  WAX  AT  HOME         .         .         .224 

XIII.  THE  SORROWS  OF  MR.  PINDAR          .     240 

XIV.  THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  .         .         .     255 
XV.     AFTER  ALL  ! 283 

XVI.  MARRIAGE  BELLS       ....     297 

XVII.  THE  LAST  WORD       .                                309 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

"  '  HOMER  HOLLOPETER,'  SHE  SAID,  <  WHAT  is 

THE  NAME  OF  THIS  VILLAGE  ? '  "  Frontispiece 

"  '  GOOD  MORNING,  SETH  ! '  SAID  THE  LITTLE 

MINISTER"  ......  80 

"  As  HE  HELD  THE  CANDLE  HIGH,  ITS  WAVER 
ING  LIGHT  FELL  ON  THE  COUNTENANCE 
OF  THE  STRANGER  "  .  .  .  .143 

"  <  BILE  IN,  SALEM  1 '  SAID  SETH  WEAVER, 

'  YOU  AIN'T  FORGOT,  HAVE  YE  ?  '  "  .  19; 


MRS.  TREE'S  WILL 


CHAPTEK   I. 

THE    WILL    ITSELF 

"  SUPPOSE  you  tell  me  all  about  it,  Mr. 
Hollopeter !  "  said  Mr.  Bliss. 

Mr.  Homer  Hollopeter  sighed  deeply; 
wiped  his  brow  with  a  sky-blue  article,  evi 
dently  under  the  impression  that  it  was  a 
pocket-handkerchief ;  sighed  again  yet  more 
deeply  on  perceiving  that  it  was  a  necktie; 
put  it  back  in  his  pocket,  and  looked  plain 
tively  at  the  minister. 

"  I  should  be  pleased  to  do  so,  Mr.  Bliss," 
he  said.  "  It  would  be  —  a  relief ;  a  —  an 
11 


12  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

unburdening ;  an  —  outlet  to  imprisoned 
nature." 

"  You  see,"  the  little  minister  went  on 
soothingly,  "  our  dear  old  friend's  death  oc 
curring  while  I  was  away,  and  I  returning 
only  just  in  time  for  the  funeral,  I  have  not 
really  heard  the  particulars  yet.  I  might  — 
that  is  —  Mrs.  Weight  kindly  called  on  me 
last  evening,  probably  with  a  view  to  giving 
me  some  information,  but  I  was  unable  to 
see  her,  and  I  should  prefer  to  hear  from 
you  how  it  all  happened." 

"  Yes  —  a  —  yes !  "  said  Mr.  Homer, 
nervously.  "  Mrs.  Weight  is  a  —  a  person 
—  a  —  in  short,  she  is  a  person  not  connected 
with  the  family.  Well,  Mr.  Bliss,  the  end 
came  very  suddenly;  very  suddenly  indeed. 
It  was  a  great  shock;  a  great  —  blow;  a 
great  —  unsettling  of  the  equilibrium  of 
daily  life.  The  village  has  never  known 
such  a  sensation,  sir,  never." 


THE   WILL   ITSELF  13 

"  Mrs.  Tree  died  in  the  evening,  I  be 
lieve  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bliss. 

"  At  nine  o'clock,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Homer. 
"  Jocko,  the  parrot,  had  had  some  trifling  in 
disposition,  and  Cousin  Marcia  had  sent  for 
Miss  Penelope  Pardon,  who,  as  you  are 
doubtless  aware,  has  some  knowledge  of  the 
feathered  tribes  and  their  peculiar  ailments. 
It  chanced  that  I  came  in  to  bring  a  letter, 
which  would,  I  fancied,  give  Cousin  Marcia 
singular  pleasure.  It  was  from  little  Vesta 
—  I  would  say  from  Mrs.  Geoffrey  Strong, 
Mr.  Bliss:  she  has  always  been  a  favorite 
niece  —  grandniece,  I  should  say,  of  Mrs. 
Tree.  I  found  my  cousin  somewhat  excited ; 
she  was  speaking  to  Miss  Pardon  with  em 
phasis,  and,  as  I  entered,  she  struck  the  floor 
with  her  stick  and  said :  '  Cat's  foot !  don't 
tell  me !  folderol ! '  and  other  expressions  of 
that  nature,  as  was  her  custom  when  moved. 
Seeing  me,  she  turned  upon  me  with  some 


14  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

abruptness  and  addressed  me  in  the  follow 
ing  words :  '  Well,  Homer,  here  you  are 
mooning  about  as  usual.  You  ought  to  be 
in  a  cage,  and  have  Penny  to  take  care  of 
you.  How  would  you  like  this  for  a  cage  ? ' 
She  waved  her  stick  round  the  room,  and 
then,  grasping  it  nervously,  shook  it  at  me 
with  violence. 

"  '  Homer  Hollopeter,'  she  said,  '  what  is 
the  name  of  this  village  ? ' 

"  Somewhat  startled  at  this  outburst,  I  re 
peated  her  remark.  '  The  name,  Cousin 
Marcia  ? ' 

"  '  The  name !  '  she  said,  violently.  '  The 
real  name !  out  with  it,  ninnyhammer !  ' 

"  I  replied  firmly,  —  it  is  a  point  on  which 
I  have  always  felt  strongly,  Mr.  Bliss,  — 
1  The  real  name  of  this  village,  Cousin  Mar 
cia,  is  Quahaug.' 

"  Mrs.  Tree  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  chair. 
'  Homer  Hollopeter,'  she  said,  i  you  have 


THE    WILL   ITSELF  15 

some   sense,    after    all!      Hooray   for    Qua- 
haug ! ' 

"  Mr.  Bliss,  they  were  her  last  words. 
She  sat  looking  at  me,  erect,  vivacious,  the 
very  picture  of  life;  and  the  next  instant 
the  stick  dropped  from  her  hand.  She  was 
gone,  sir.  The  spirit  had  —  departed ;  —  a 

—  removed  itself ;  —  a  —  winged  its  way  to 
the  empyrean." 

He  paused,  half-drew  out  the  blue  neck 
tie,  then  replaced  it  hurriedly. 

"  It  was  a  great  shock,"  he  said ;  "  I  shall 
never  be  the  same  man  again,  never!  Miss 
Pardon  was  most  kind  and  attentive.  She 
supplied  me  with  —  a  —  volatile  salts,  and 
in  other  ways  ministered  to  my  outer  man 
till  I  was  somewhat  restored;  but  the  inner 
man,  sir,  the  —  a  —  rainbow-hued  spirit,  as 
the  poet  has  it,  is  —  a  —  bruised ;  is  —  a 

—  battered ;    is  —  a  —  marked  with  the  im 
press  of  a  grievous  blow.     At  my  age  I  can 


16  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

hardly  hope  to  recover  the  equilibrium 
which  —  " 

"  Come !  come !  Mr.  Hollopeter,"  said  the 
little  minister ;  "  you  must  not  be  despond 
ent.  Consider,  our  dear  old  friend  had 
rounded  out  her  century;  the  ripe  fruit 
dropped  quietly  from  the  bough.  It  is  true 
that  her  loss  is  a  grievous  one  to  all  our 
community." 

"  It  is,  sir !  it  is,  sir !  "  said  Mr.  Homer. 
"  To  imagine  this  community  without  Cousin 
Marcia  is  to  imagine  the  hive  without  its 
queen ;  the  — •  a  —  flock  without  its  leader ; 
the  —  a  —  finny  tribe  —  but  this  is  not  a 
metaphor  which  can  be  pursued,  Mr.  Bliss; 
and,  indeed,  I  see  our  friends  even  now  ap 
proaching  to  join  in  the  ceremony  —  a  — 
the  —  I  may  say  solemnity,  which  we  have 
come  hither  to  observe." 

The  foregoing  conversation  was  held  in 
Mrs.  Tree's  parlor.  I  say  Mrs.  Tree's,  ad- 


THE    WILL   ITSELF  17 

visedly,  for,  though  the  bright,  energetic 
spirit  that  had  so  lately  held  sway  there  was 
gone,  her  presence  still  remained  to  fill  the 
room.  Indeed,  this  room,  with  its  dim  an 
tique  richness,  its  glimmer  of  gold  lacquer, 
its  soft  duskiness  of  brocade  and  damask,  its 
treasures  of  rare  and  precious  woods,  and, 
above  all,  its  fragrance  of  sandalwood  and 
roses,  had  always  seemed  the  fit  and  perfect 
setting  for  the  ancient  jewel  it  held.  To 
the  poetic  imagination  of  Mr.  Homer  Hollo- 
peter,  Mrs.  Tree  had  always  seemed  out  of 
place  elsewhere.  He  had  almost  grudged  the 
occasions,  rare  of  late  years,  when  she  went 
abroad  in  her  camel's-hair  shawl  and  her 
great  velvet  bonnet.  There  seemed  no  reason 
why  she  should  ever  stir  from  her  high- 
backed  chair  of  carved  ebony.  He  saw  her 
in  it  at  this  moment,  almost  as  plainly  as 
he  had  seen  her  three  days  ago;  the  tiny 
satin-clad  figure,  erect,  alert,  the  little  hands 


18  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

resting  on  the  ebony  crutch-stick,  the  eyes 
darting  black  fire,  the  lips  uttering  pungent 
words  that  bit  like  cayenne  pepper,  yet  were 
wholesome  in  their  biting,  —  was  it  possible 
that  she  was  no  longer  there  ?  Mr.  Homer 
had  feared  his  cousin  Marcia  more  than  any 
earthly  thing,  but  still  he  had  loved  her  sin 
cerely;  and  now  the  tears  were  in  his  mild 
blue  eyes  as  he  turned  from  this  vision  of 
her  to  greet  the  incoming  guests.  Since  the 
death  of  Doctor  Stedman  and  his  dear  wife 
the  year  before,  Mr.  Homer  was  Mrs.  Tree's 
only  kinsman  living  in  the  village,  and  Doc 
tor  Strong,  now  staying  at  the  Blyth  house 
with  his  wife,  had  begged  him  to  take  up 
his  quarters  at  Mrs.  Tree's  for  the  present. 
He  had  a  special  reason  for  asking  it,  he 
said.  Mr.  Homer  would  find  out  later  what 
it  was.  So,  meekly  and  sadly,  Mr.  Homer 
had  brought  a  limp  carpet-bag,  and  asked 
Direxia  Hawkes,  the  old  servant,  to  put  him 


THE    WILL  ITSELF  19 

wherever  it  would  be  least  inconvenient; 
and  the  old  woman,  half -blind  with  weeping, 
had  fiercely  made  ready  the  best  bedroom, 
and  was  trying  with  bitter  energy  to  feed 
him  to  death. 

Who  are  these  who  enter  the  quiet  room, 
greeting  Mr.  Homer  with  a  silent  nod  or 
a  low-toned  word  or  two  ?  We  know  most 
of  them.  First  come  Dr.  Geoffrey  Strong 
and  Vesta,  his  wife,  a  noble-looking  pair. 
Geoffrey  holds  his  head  as  high,  and  his  eyes 
are  as  bright  and  keen  as  ever;  and,  if  a 
silver  thread  shows  here  and  there  in  his 
crisp  brown  hair,  Vesta  thinks  him  none  the 
less  handsome  for  that.  There  is  no  silver 
in  Vesta's  own  hair;  the  tawny  masses  are 
as  beautiful  as  ever.  Her  figure  is  a  little 
fuller,  as  becomes  the  mother  of  four.  Geof 
frey  tells  the  children  in  confidence  that  their 
mother  is  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  Venus 
of  Milo,  and  says  he  has  no  doubt  that  the 


20  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

latter  lady  had  tawny  hair.  Vesta  has  put 
on  a  simple  black  dress,  but  there  is  no  special 
sign  of  "  mourning  "  about  it. 

"  If  anybody  puts  on  crape  for  me,"  Mrs. 
Tree  used  to  say,  "  I'll  get  up  and  pull  it  off 
'em.  So  now  they  know.  Nasty,  unhealthy 
stuff!  There's  a  piece  to  go  on  the  door. 
Tommy  Candy  knows  where  it  is ;  and  that's 
all  I'll  have." 

Here  is  Tommy  Candy  now,  a  tall  lad  of 
twenty,  walking  lame  and  leaning  on  a  stick ; 
his  hair,  which  used  to  stand  up  in  stiff 
spikes  all  over  his  head,  is  brought  under 
some  control,  but  there  is  no  suppressing  the 
twinkle  in  his  gray  eyes.  Even  now,  when 
he  is  in  sincere  grief  for  his  best  friend,  his 
eyes  will  twinkle  as  he  looks  out  of  the  win 
dow  and  sees  the  elephantine  form  of  Mrs. 
Weight  lumbering  up  the  garden  path.  And 
who  is  this  behind  her  ?  Talk  of  crape,  — 
why,  here  is  a  figure  literally  swathed  in  it. 


THE    WILL   ITSELF  21 

The  heavy  veil  is  only  pushed  aside  to  give 
play  to  a  handkerchief  with  an  inch-deep 
black  border,  which  is  pressed  to  the  eyes ; 
a  sob  shakes  the  buxom  figure.  Who  is  this 
grief -smitten  lady  ?  Why,  this  is  Mrs.  Maria 
Darracott  Pryor,  Mrs.  Tree's  own  and  only 
lawful  niece,  the  Next  of  Kin.  She  brushes 
past  Vesta  and  her  husband  with  a  curt  nod, 
rustles  across  the  room,  and  lays  her  head 
on  the  arm  of  the  ebony  chair.  At  this 
Homer  Hollopeter  and  Geoffrey  Strong  both 
start  from  their  seats.  Mr.  Homer's  gentle 
eyes  gleam  with  unaccustomed  fire ;  he  opens 
his  mouth  to  speak,  but  closes  it  again;  for 
the  intruder  stops  —  falters  —  gives  a  scared 
look  about  her,  and,  tottering  back,  subsides 
on  a  sofa  at  the  side  of  the  room.  Here  she 
sobs  ostentatiously  behind  her  handkerchief, 
and  takes  eager  note  of  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany. 

She  was  followed  by  Mrs.  Deacon  Weight, 


22  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

from  across  the  way,  whom  Direxia  admitted 
"  this  once !  "  as  she  said  to  herself  with 
silent  ferocity;  William  Jaquith  and  his 
lovely  wife;  finally,  the  lawyer,  a  brisk, 
dapper  little  man,  who  came  in  quickly,  sat 
down  by  the  violet-wood  table,  and  pro 
ceeded  without  delay  to  open  his  budget. 

"  I,  Marcia  Darracott  Tree,  being  of  sound 
mind,  which  is  more  than  most  folks  I  know 
are  —  " 

There  was  a  movement,  slight  but  gen 
eral,  among  the  company.  No  one  quite 
smiled,  but  the  faces  of  those  who  had  loved 
Mrs.  Tree  lightened,  while  those  of  the  others 
stiffened  into  a  rigidity  of  disapproval.  To 
one  and  all  it  seemed  as  if  the  ancient  woman 
were  speaking  to  them.  The  little  lawyer 
paused  and  gave  a  quick  glance  around  the 
room. 

"  It  may  be  well  for  me  to  state  in  the 
beginning,"  he  said,  "  that  this  instrument, 


THE    WILL   ITSELF  23 

though  beyond  question  irregular  in  its 
form  of  expression,  is  —  equally  beyond 
question  —  perfectly  regular  in  its  sub 
stance;  an  entirely  valid  instrument.  To 
resume :  l  of  sound  mind,'  —  I  need  not 
repeat  the  excursus,  —  '  do  hereby  dispose 
of  my  various  belongings,  all  of  which  are 
absolutely  and  without  qualification  within 
my  own  control  and  possession,  in  the  fol 
lowing  manner,  to  wit,  namely,  and  any 
other  folderol  this  man  may  want  to  put  in.' 
Ahem !  My  venerable  friend  was  very  pleas 
ant  with  me  while  I  was  drawing  up  this 
instrument,  —  very  pleasant ;  but  she  in 
sisted  on  my  writing  her  exact  words. 

"  '  To  Vesta  Strong  I  give  and  bequeath 
my  jewels,  with  the  exceptions  hereinafter 
specified;  my  lace;  the  velvet  and  satin 
dresses  in  the  cedar  chests;  the  camel's-hair 
shawls ;  the  silver,  both  Darracott  and  Tree ; 
and  anything  else  in  the  house  that  she  may 


24  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

fancy,  with  the  exceptions  hereinafter  men 
tioned.  She'd  better  not  clutter  up  her  house 
with  too  many  things;  it  is  full  enough 
already,  with  Blyth  and  Meredith  truck. 

"  '  To  Geoffrey  Strong  I  give  any  of  my 
books  that  he  likes,  except  the  blue  Keats; 
the  engraved  sapphire  ring,  and  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars. 

"  '  Homer  Hollopeter  is  to  have  the  blue 
morocco  Keats,  presented  by  the  author  to 
my  father,  because  he  has  always  wanted 
it  and  never  expected  to  get  it.' ' 

The  tears  brimmed  over  in  Mr.  Homer's 
eyes.  "  I  certainly  never  did  expect  this," 
he  said,  with  emotion.  "  I  have  held  the 
precious  volume  in  my  hands  reverently 
—  a  —  humbly  —  a  —  with  abasement  of 
spirit,  but  I  never  thought  to  possess  it.  I 
am  indeed  overcome.  Pardon  the  interrup 
tion,  sir,  I  beg  of  you." 

The  lawyer  gave  Mr.  Homer  a  look,  half- 


THE    WILL  ITSELF  25 

quizzical,  half -compassionate.  "  Your  name 
occurs  again  in  this  instrument,  Homer,"  he 
said ;  "  I  will  not  say  more  at  present.  To 
resume : 

"  l  To  Direxia  Hawkes  I  give  five  thou 
sand  dollars  and  a  home  in  this  house  as 
long  as  she  lives,  on  condition  that  she  never 
cleans  more  than  one  room  in  it  at  a  time, 
and  that  she  makes  the  orange  cordial  every 
year  according  to  my  rule,  without  making 
any  fool  changes.'  ' 

Direxia  Hawkes,  a  tiny  withered  brownie, 
had  been  standing  by  the  door  since  she  ad 
mitted  the  last  comer.  She  now  threw  her 
apron  over  her  head  and  began  to  sob.  "  Did 
you  ever  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Tell  me  that  woman 
is  dead!  She's  more  alive  than  the  hull 
bilin'  of  this  village,  I  tell  you.  Sixty  years 
I've  been  trying  to  get  a  mite  of  ginger  into 
that  cordial,  and  now  I  never  shall.  There ! 
I  don't  want  to  no  more,  now  she  ain't 


26  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

here  to  tell  me  I  sha'n't.     Oh,  dear!     Oh, 
dear!" 

Vesta  Strong  went  to  the  old  woman's 
side  and  comforted  her  tenderly.  The  sobs 
died  away  into  sniffs,  and  the  lawyer  con 
tinued  : 

" '  To  William  Jaquith  I  leave  twenty 
thousand  dollars  and  the  house  he  now 
occupies ;  also  all  the  property,  real  and 
personal,  of  my  grandson,  Arthur  Blyth, 
deceased. 

"  '  To  my  niece,  Maria  Darracott  Pryor,' ' 
—  the  little  lawyer  paused  and  glanced  over 
his  spectacles.  With  each  of  the  bequests 
enumerated,  Mrs.  Pryor  had  become  more 
and  more  rigid.  The  black-edged  handker 
chief  was  forgotten,  and  she  sat  with  her 
chin  raised  and  her  prominent  short-sighted 
eyes  glancing  from  one  to  another  of  the 
fortunate  legatees  with  an  expression  which, 
to  say  the  least,  was  not  affectionate. 


THE    WILL   ITSELF  27 

"  From  envy,  hatred,  and  malice,"  Geoffrey 
had  whispered  a  moment  before. 

"  Hush,  Geoffrey,"  said  Vesta. 

But  at  the  mention  of  her  own  name, 
Mrs.  Pryor's  expression  changed;  the  rigor 
yielded  to  a  drooping  softness;  she  heaved 
a  deep  sigh  and  raised  the  handkerchief  to 
her  eyes  again. 

"  Dearest  Cousin  Marcia ! "  she  mur 
mured  ;  "  she  remembered  even  in  her  clos 
ing  moments  that  I  was  her  next  of  kin ; 
so  touching.  The  Darracott  blood  - 

"  '  To  my  niece,  Maria  Darracott  Pryor, 
I  give  and  bequeath  —  the  sum  of  —  three 
dollars  and  sixty-seven  cents,  being  the  price 
of  a  ticket  back  where  she  came  from.  If 
she  tries  to  stay  in  my  house,  tell  her  to  re 
member  the  last  time.' 

"  I  greatly  regret  these  discourteous  ob 
servations,"  said  the  little  lawyer,  deprecat- 
ingly,  "  but  my  venerable  friend  was  —  a  — 


28  MBS,    TREE'S    WILL 

positively  determined  on  inserting  them,  and 
I  had  no  alternative,  I  assure  you." 

He  looked  with  some  alarm  at  Mrs.  Pryor 
as  he  spoke,  and,  indeed,  that  lady's  counte 
nance  was  dreadful  to  look  upon.  Every  part 
of  her  seemed  to  clink  and  crackle  as  she  rose 
to  her  feet,  her  eyes  snapping,  her  teeth 
fairly  chattering  with  rage. 

"  You  call  this  a  will,  do  you  ?  "  she  cried. 
"  You  call  this  law,  do  you  ?  We'll  see 
about  that.  We'll  see  if  the  next  of  kin  is 
to  be  insulted  and  trodden  upon  by  a  low 
attorney  and  a  set  of  beggars  on  horseback. 
We'll  see  —  " 

But  the  little  lawyer,  who  came  from  the 
neighboring  town,  had  gone  to  the  Acad 
emy  with  Maria  Darracott,  and,  though  a 
man  of  punctilious  courtesy,  had  no  idea 
of  being  called  a  low  attorney  by  any  such 
person.  He  therefore  interrupted  her  with 
scant  ceremony. 


THE    WILL  ITSELF  29 

"  We  must,  I  fear,  postpone  discussion," 
lie  said,  "  until  the  instrument  has  been 
heard  in  its  entirety  by  all  present.  To 
resume." 

Mrs.  Pryor  glanced  about  her  with  chal 
lenging  eyes  and  heaving  breast,  but,  seeing 
that  no  one  paid  much  heed  to  her,  all  looks 
being  bent  on  the  reader,  she  subsided  once 
more  into  her  seat,  a  statue  of  vindictive 
protest. 

"  '  To  Thomas  Candy  I  give  five  thousand 
dollars,  and  another  five  thousand  dollars  on 
his  attaining  the  age  of  twenty-five  if  he 
shall  have  been  able  by  that  time  to  carry 
out  the  plan  and  maintain  the  condition  now 
to  be  specified.'  ' 

The  little  lawyer  paused  again  and 
glanced  round  the  expectant  circle.  His 
shrewd  brown  face  was  immovable,  but  his 
black  eyes  twinkled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  I  have  already  observed,"  he  said,  "  that 


30  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

this  instrument  is  an  unusual,  I  may  say,  a 
singular  one.  My  venerable  friend  was  most 
emphatic  in  her  enunciation  of  the  following 
—  a  —  condition,  which  —  which  I  forbear 
to  characterize."  He  glanced  at  the  empty 
chair.  One  would  have  thought  that  for 
him  it  was  not  empty.  Then  he  went 
on: 

"  '  The  condition  now  to  be  specified. 

"  '  To  Homer  Hollopeter  and  Thomas 
Candy  I  give  and  bequeath  this  house  and 
garden,  the  furniture,  etc.  (after  Vesta 
Strong  has  taken  what  she  wants),  the  col 
lections  of  foreign  wroods,  uncut  gems,  but 
terflies,  carved  ivories,  natural  curiosities, 
shells,  coins,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  to  be  held  by 
them  in  trust,  and  arranged  by  them  as  a 
museum  for  the  perpetual  benefit  of  this 
village ;  and  I  give  them  over  and  above  the 
before  mentioned  legacies  two  thousand  dol 
lars  yearly  for  the  maintenance  of  this 


THE    WILL  ITSELF  31 

museum  and  for  additions  thereto :  all  this 
on  condition  that  this  village  shall  resume 
and  maintain  its  original  and  true  name  of 
Quahaug,  which  it  would  never  have  lost 
if  Captain  Tree  and  I  had  not  been  in  the 
South  Seas  while  that  old  noddy,  Melancthon 
Swain,  was  minister  here. 

"  '  All  the  rest  and  residue  of  my  estate 
I  give  and  bequeath  to  the  aforesaid  Homer 
Hollopeter,  and  I  appoint  him  my  residuary 
legatee,  and  I  hope  there's  fuss  enough  about 
it.'  " 

The  little  lawyer  stopped  reading  and 
pushed  back  his  chair.  In  doing  so,  he  may 
have  inadvertently  touched  the  empty  chair, 
for  at  that  instant  an  ebony  crutch-stick, 
which  had  been  leaning  against  it,  fell 
forward  on  the  floor  with  a  loud  rattle. 
Mrs.  Pryor  shrieked  and  fell  into  real  and 
violent  hysterics.  She  was  supported  out  of 


32  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

the  room  by  Doctor  Strong  and  his  wife. 
Mrs.  Weight  rolled  out  after  them,  snorting 
indignant  sympathy,  and  the  assembly  broke 
up  in  confusion. 


CHAPTER   II. 

WHAT    THE    MEN    SAID 

I  HAVE  elsewhere  described  the  village 
post-office,  both  as  it  appeared  at  the  time 
of  Mr.  Homer  Hollopeter's  election  as  post 
master  and  as  later  adorned  and  beautified 
by  him.1  It  had  been  a  labor  of  love  with 
Mr.  Homer,  not  only  to  make  the  office  itself 
pleasant,  to  transform  it,  as  he  said,  "  into 
a  fitting  shrine  for  the  genius  of  epistolary 
intercourse,"  but  to  make  the  outside  of  the 
building  pleasant  to  the  eye.  Clematis  and 
woodbine  were  trained  up  the  walls  and 
round  the  windows,  and  the  once  forlorn- 
looking  veranda  was  a  veritable  bower  of 
morning-glory  and  climbing  roses. 

i"Mrs.  Tree." 
33 


34  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

On  this  veranda,  the  day  after  the  reading 
of  Mrs.  Tree's  will,  the  village  elders  were 
gathered,  as  was  their  custom,  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  afternoon  mail.  They  sat  in 
a  row,  their  chairs  tilted  back  against  the 
wall,  their  faces  set  seaward.  The  faces 
were  all  grave,  and  a  certain  solemnity 
seemed  to  brood  over  the  little  assembly. 
From  time  to  time  one  or  another  would  take 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  the  others 
would  look  at  him  doubtfully,  as  if  half- 
expecting  a  remark,  but  the  pipe  would  be 
replaced  in  silence.  At  length  Salem  Rock, 
a  massive  gray-haired  man  of  dignified  and 
sober  aspect,  spoke. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  said,  "  somebody's  got 
to  say  something,  and,  as  nobody  else  seems 
inclined,  I  s'pose  it's  up  to  me  as  the  oldest 
here.  'Not  but  what  I  feel  like  a  child  to 
day,  —  a  little  mite  of  a  child.  Boys,  this 
village  has  met  with  a  great  loss." 


WHAT    THE  MEN  SAID  35 

There  was  a  general  murmur  of  "  That's 
so !  "  "  It  has."  "  That's  what  it's  met 
with!" 

"  I  can't  seem  to  sense  it !  "  Salem  Rock 
continued.  "  I  can't  seem  to  make  it  any 
ways  real,  that  Mis'  Tree  is  gone.  I  can't 
help  but  think  that  if  I  went  there  to  that 
house  to-day,  as  I  was  free  to  go  any  time  I 
wanted  anything  as  good  advice  could  give 
—  or  help  either  — r  or  anybody  else  in  this 
village  as  ever  needed  anything  —  I  can't 
help  but  think  that  if  I  went  there  to  that 
house  to-day  I  should  find  Mis'  Tree  sittin' 
in  her  chair,  chirk  as  a  chipmunk,  and  hear 
her  say,  '  Now,  Salem  Rock,  what  mischief 
have  you  been  up  to  ? '  I  was  allus  a  boy  to 
her  —  we  was  all  boys." 

"  That's  so !  "  the  chorus  murmured  again. 
"  That  was  what  we  was ;  boys !  " 

"  And  when  I  think,"  Salem  Rock  went 
on,  "  that  I  shall  never  more  so  go  and  so 


36  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

find  her  again  —  sittin'  in  that  chair  —  nor 
hear  her  so  speak  —  I  tell  you,  boys,  it 
breaks  me  all  up;  it  doos  so." 

Again  there  was  a  sympathetic  murmur; 
heads  were  shaken,  and  feet  shuffled  uneasily. 
The  men  were  all  glad  to  have  a  voice  for 
their  grief,  but  all  had  not  the  gift  of  speech. 

"  I  remember  "  —  Salem  Rock  was  still 
the  speaker ;  he  was  a  slow,  thoughtful  man, 
and  gathered  momentum  as  he  went  on  — 
"  the  first  time  ever  I  saw  Mis'  Tree,  to 
remember  it.  I  couldn't  ha'  been  more  than 
six  years  old,  and  I  was  sittin'  in  the  front 
dooryard  makin'  mud  pies,  and  she  came  in 
on  some  errand  to  mother.  Mother  used  to 
spin  yarn  for  her,  same  as  my  woman  does 
now  —  did,  I'm  obleeged  to  say.  Wai,  she 
had  on  her  grand  bunnit  and  shawl,  and  I 
had  never  seen  nothin'  like  her  before. 
Ma'rm  never  took  me  to  meetin'  till  I  was 
seven,  and  she  showed  judgment.  Wai,  sirs, 


WHAT    THE  MEN  SAID  37 

that  ancient  woman  —  she  wasn't  ancient 
then,  of  course,  but  yet  she  wasn't  young, 
and  she  appeared  ancient  to  me  —  looked  me 
over,  and  spoke  up  sharp  and  crips.  '  Stand 
up,  boy,'  she  says,  '  and  take  your  hat  off ; 
quick !  ' 

"  I  tell  ye,  there  didn't  no  grass  grow 
under  me !  I  was  up  fast  as  my  legs  could 
scramble. 

"  '  That's  right ! '  she  says ;  '  always  stand 
up  and  take  off  your  hat  when  a  lady  comes 
into  the  yard.' 

"  '  Be  you  a  lady  ? '  says  I.  Lord  knows 
what  kind  of  notion  I  had;  children  don't 
always  know  what  they  are  saying. 

"  '  I  am  the  Queen  of  the  Cannibal  Is 
lands  ! '  says  she. 

"  I  never  misdoubted  but  what  she  was, 
and  I  didn't  know  what  Cannibal  Islands 
meant. 

"  '  What's  your  name  ? '  says  I. 


38  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  '  I'll  tell  you  what  my  husband's  name 
is,'"  says  she.  '  His  name  is 

"  '  Chingy  Fungy  Wong, 

Putta-potee  da  Kubbala  Kong, 
Flipperty  Flapperty  Busky  Bong, 
The  King  of  the  Cannibal  Islands.' 

"  Then  she  went  into  the  house,  and  I 
stood  starin'  after  her  with  my  mouth  gap- 
pin'  open.  She  didn't  stay  long,  and,  when 
she  came  out  again,  up  I  jumps  without 
waitin'  to  be  told.  She  looks  at  me  ag'in, 
that  quick  way  she  had,  like  a  bird.  '  Fin 
ished  your  pie  ? '  says  she. 

"  *  Yes'm,'  says  I. 

"  i  Is  it  a  good  pie  ? '  says  she. 

"  '  I  guess  so ! '  says  I. 

"Til  buy  it,'  says  she.  'Here's  the 
money !  '  anft  she  gives  me  a  bright  new  ten- 
cent  piece,  —  it  was  the  first  ever  I  had  in 
my  life,  —  and  walked  off  quick  and  light 


WHAT   THE  MEN  SAID  39 

before  ever  I  could  say  a  word.  Well,  now, 
sirs,  if  children  ain't  cur'us  things !  I  was 
a  slow  child  most  ways,  —  ben  slow  all  my 
life  long,  but  it  come  over  me  then  quick  as 
winkin',  she  had  paid  for  that  pie,  and  it 
was  hers,  and  she'd  got  to  have  it.  I  never 
said  a  word,  but  just  toddled  after  down 
street,  holdin'  that  mud  pie  as  if  it  was 
Thanksgivin'  mince.  I  couldn't  catch  up 
with  her;  she  walked  almighty  fast  them 
days,  and  my  legs  were  short,  but  I  kep' 
her  red  shawl  in  sight,  and  I  see  where  she 
went  in.  Time  I  got  up  to  the  door  it  was 
shut,  but  I  banged  on  it  in  good  shape,  and 
D'reckshy  Hawkes  come  and  opened  it.  She 
was  allus  sharp,  D'reckshy  was,  and  she 
couldn't  abide  no  boys  but  her  two,  as  she 
called  'em,  Arthur  and  Willy,  and  they 
weren't  neither  one  of  'em  born  then. 

"  '  What   do  you  want,   boy  ? '   she  says, 
sharp  enough. 


40  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  i  I  don't  want  nothin' ! '  says  I.  '  I 
brung  the  pie.' 

"  i  What  pie  ? '  says  she. 

"  '  Her'n,'  says  I.  '  She  bought  it  off'n 
me;  her  that  went  in  just  now,  with  the 
red  shawl.' 

"  D'reckshy  looked  me  over,  and  looked  at 
the  pie.  I  make  no  doubt  but  she  was  just 
goin'  to  send  me  about  my  business,  but 
before  she  could  speak  I  heard  Mis'  Tree's 
voice.  She  had  seen  me  from  the  window, 
I  expect. 

"  '  D'reckshy  Hawkes,'  she  says,  '  take  that 
pie  into  the  pantry  and  send  the  child  to 
me.' 

"  '  My  sakes,  Mis'  Tree ! '  said  D'reckshy, 
'  it  ain't  a  pie ;  it's  a  mud  pie ! ' 

"  '  Do  as  I  tell  you !  '  says  Mis'  Tree,  and 
D'reckshy  went;  but  she  give  me  a  shove 
toward  the  parlor  door,  and  there  I  see  Mis' 
Tree  sittin'  in  her  chair.  That  was  the 


WHAT    THE   MEN  SAID  41 

first  time.  Well,  sirs,  we  are  all  perishable 
clay." 

Another  silence  fell;  the  pensive  pipes 
puffed ;  the  keen  eyes  scanned  the  prospect. 

"  Looks  as  if  'twas  tryin'  to  git  up  some 
kind  o'  weather  out  there !  "  said  Seth 
Weaver. 

"  Doos  so !  "  responded  Ebenezer  Hoppin. 
"  It's  ben  tryin'  two-three  days,  but  it  don't 
seem  to  have  no  pertickler  success." 

"  Old  Mis'  Tree  hadn't  no  use  for 
weather,"  said  Jordan  Tooke.  "  Some 
women-folks  are  scairt  to  death  of  a  rain 
storm;  you'd  think  they  were  afraid  of 
washin'  out  themselves,  same  as  they  be 
about  their  clo'es ;  but  she  wa'n't  that  kind ; 
rain  or  snow,  shine  or  shower,  she  did  what 
she  had  a  mind  to. 

"  l  Weather  never  took  no  heed  of  me,' 
she  used  to  say,  '  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  take 
no  heed  of  it.'  'No  more  she  did !  " 


42  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Seth  Weaver  shook  his  head,  with  a  remi 
niscent  chuckle.  "  Ever  hear  what  she  said 
to  that  feller  that  come  here  one  time  from 
Salt  Marsh  and  druv  the  ten-cent  team  a 
spell?" 

The  others  shook  their  heads  and  turned 
toward  him  with  an  air  of  relief.  Collective 
sorrow  is  embarrassing  to  men. 

"  There  wa'n't  much  to  him,"  said  Seth, 
"and  what  there  was  was  full  half  the  time. 
He  didn't  stay  here  long.  This  village  didn't 
appreciate  him  the  way  he  liked  to  be  appre 
ciated.  Wai,  it  was  snowin'  one  day,  quite 
a  storm  it  was,  and  Mis'  Tree  had  sent  for 
him,  —  Anthony  bein'  laid  up  or  somethin'. 
Ezra  Doolittle  —  that  was  his  name,  and  it 
suited  him  —  had  bit  off  more  jobs  than  he 
could  swaller,  and  when  he  got  round  to 
Mis'  Tree's  he  was  half  an  hour  late,  and 
she  told  him  so  pretty  plain.  He  had  just 
enough  liquor  aboard  to  make  him  saucy. 


WHAT    THE  MEN  SAID  43 

'  Wai,'  he  says,  '  you're  lucky  to  git  me  at 
all.  I've  druv  from  Hell  to  Jerusalem  to  git 
here  now.' 

"  Mis'  Tree  was  all  ready  for  him ;  she 
spoke  up  quick  as  kindlin' :  '  You'll  git  back 
quicker,'  she  says,  ( 'cause  you  know  the 
way.' 

"  I  was  just  drivin'  by  on  my  milk  route, 
and  she  caught  sight  of  me. 

"  '  Seth,'  she  says,  '  I  want  to  go  to  Mis' 
Jaquith's.  Can  you  take  me  ? ' 

"  '  I'd  be  pleased  to,'  says  I,  '  if  you  don't 
mind  the  pung,  Mis'  Tree.' 

"  She  was  into  that  pung  before  you  could 
say  '  sausage !  ' 

"  '  Whip  up  !  '  she  says ;  '  get  ahead  of 
that  feller !  '  and  I  laid  into  my  old  mare, 
and  off  we  went  kingdom-comin'  down  the 
ro'd,  me  in  my  old  red  pung  and  my  buffalo 
coat,  and  Mis'  Tree  in  her  velvet  bunnit  and 
fur  cloak,  and  that  feller  standin'  in  the  ro'd 


44  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

with  his  mouth  open,  same  as  you  were, 
Salem,  with  your  mud  pie.  Well,  sir,  that 
was  a  meal  o'  victuals  for  me.  I  sent  the  old 
mare  along  for  all  she  was  wuth,  and  we  got 
down  to  Jaquiths'  inside  of  ten  minutes. 
Pretty  good  time,  considerin'  what  the  ro'd 
was.  Got  there,  and  out  that  old  lady  hops 
like  a  girl. 

"  '  Good  boy,  Seth ! '  she  says. 

"  She  wanted  to  give  me  a  dollar,  'cause 
she  had  taken  me  off  my  route,  but  I  says, 
1 1  guess  not,  Mis'  Tree ! '  I  says.  '  I've  ben 
layin'  for  you  ever  since  you  helped  mother 
when  she  had  the  fever,  and  now  I've  got 
my  chance ! '  So  she  laughs  and  says,  call 
for  her  on  my  way  back,  and  I  did;  but 
when  I  found  a  fourteen-pound  turkey  sittin' 
up  against  my  door  Christmas  mornin',  - 
I  wasn't  buyin'  turkeys  that  year  myself,  — 
I  knowed  where  it  come  from,  and  no  words 
said.  But  what  took  me  was  the  way  she 


WHAT   THE   MEN  SAID  45 

spoke  up  to  that  feller.  Now  some  women 
would  have  complained,  and  some  would 
have  scol't,  and  they'd  all  have  gone  with  the 
feller  'cause  he  had  a  covered  team,  —  but 
not  she !  '  You'll  get  back  quicker/  she  says, 
t  from  knowin'  the  way !  '  and  into  my  team 
like  a  flash.  Gorry !  that's  the  kind  of 
woman  I  like  to  see." 

"  You'll  never  see  another  like  her !  "  said 
Salem  Rock.  "  The  likes  of  Mis'  Tree  never 
has  ben  seen  and  never  will  be  seen,  not  in 
this  deestrick.  Her  tongue  was  as  quick  as 
her  heart  was  kind,  and  when  you  say  that 
you've  said  all  there  is  to  say.  I  s'pose  there 
ain't  one  of  us  but  could  tell  a  dozen  stories 
like  yours,  Seth.  I  dunno  as  it's  proper  to 
tell  'em  just  now,"  he  paused ;  "  and  yet," 
he  continued,  "  I  dunno  but  it  is.  She  was 
—  so  to  say  —  she  was  all  of  a  piece.  You 
can't  think  of  her  without  the  sharp  way  she 
had." 


46  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  That's  so,"  Seth  assented ;  "  that's  so 
every  time.  There  wa'n't  nobody  thought 
more  of  Mis'  Tree  than  what  I  did,  but  yet 
what  keeps  comin'  up  to  me  ever  since  she 
was  laid  away  is  them  quick,  sharp  kind  o' 
things  she'd  say.  Now  take  what  she  said 
to  Mis'  Nudd,  Isril  Nudd's  widder.  You 
all  know  what  Isril  was;  he  was  mean  as 
dirt  and  sour  as  pickles.  He'd  scrimped  his 
wife,  and  he'd  half-starved  her,  and  some 
said  he'd  beat  her,  but  I  never  knew  how  that 
was.  Anyway,  Marthy  Nudd  had  as  poor 
a  time  of  it  as  any  woman  in  this  village, 
and  everybody  knew  it.  And  yet,  when  he 
died  she  mourned  for  him  as  if  he  was 
Moses  and  Simeon  and  the  Angel  Gabriel 
all  in  one.  Well,  she  come  to  Mis'  Tree 
beggin'  for  the  loan  of  some  shawl  or  bunnit 
or  toggery  to  wear,  I  dunno  what;  and  she 
was  goin'  on  about  her  poor  husband,  and 
how  she  had  tried  to  do  her  duty  by  him, 


WHAT   THE  MEN  SAID  47 

and  hoped  he  knew  it  now  he  was  in  heaven, 
and  all  that  kind  of  talk.  Old  Mis'  Tree  let 
her  say  about  so  much  and  then  she  stopped 
her.  You  know  the  way  she'd  hit  the  floor 
with  her  stick.  Rap !  that  stick  would  go, 
and  any  one's  heart  would  sit  right  up  in 
their  boosum. 

"  '  That'll  do,  Marthy ! '  she  says.  '  Now 
listen  to  me.  You  say  Isril  is  in  heaven  ?  ' 

"  '  Oh,  yes'm,  yes,  Mis'  Tree/  says  Mar 
thy.  '  He's  numbered  with  the  blest,  I  don't 
make  no  doubt  on  it.' 

"  '  And  you've  got  the  four  hundred  dol 
lars  life  insurance  that  you  told  me  was 
due?' 

"  '  Yes'm,  that's  all  safe ;  my  brother's 
put  it  in  the  bank  for  me.' 

"  '  Very  well,  Marthy  Ntidd ;  if  you've 
got  Isril  into  heaven  and  got  four  hundred 
dollars  life  insurance  on  hirn,  that's  the  best 
piece  of  work  ever  you  done  in  your  life, 


48  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

or  ever  will  do.  Cat's  foot ! '  she  says ;  '  fol- 
derol ! '  she  says,  '  don't  talk  to  me ! '  and 
she  shoved  her  out  with  her  stick  and 
wouldn't  hear  another  word.  Gorry !  I 
wouldn't  ben  Marthy  Nudd- 

"  Didn't  hurt  Marthy  none,  I  expect," 
said  Ebenezer  Hoppin.  "  She's  one  of  them 
kind,  sorter  betwixt  putty  and  Injia  rub 
ber;  you  can  double  her  up  easy,  but  first 
thing  you  know  she's  out  smooth  again. 
Some  say  she's  liable  to  marry  Elihu  Wick, 
over  to  the  Corner.  She'd  find  him  some 
different  from  Isril." 

"  What  kind  of  feller  is  he  ?  "  asked  Jor 
dan  Tooke. 

"  Oh,  a  string  and  shingle  man.  Give 
him  pork  and  give  him  sunset,  and  he  won't 
ask  nothin'  more.  Marthy  won't  get  no  four 
hundred  dollars  insurance  on  him,  but  he'll 
go  to  heaven  all  right.  There  isn't  a  mite 


WHAT   THE  MEN  SAID  49 

o'  harm  in  'Lihu,  and  Marthy  has  earned 
her  rest,  I  will  say." 

"  Speakin'  of  insurance,"  said  Salem, 
slowly,  "  reminds  me  we  ain't  said  anything 
about  Mis'  Tree's  will.  It  is  a  sing'lar  will, 
boys." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Heads  were 
shaken  and  feet  were  shuffled  uneasily. 

"  Mighty  sing'lar,"  said  Hiram  Gray. 

"  Beats  all  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  Jordan 
Tooke. 

Seth  Weaver  kept  a  loyal  silence.  Salem 
gave  him  a  look,  and,  receiving  a  nod  in 
reply,  went  on: 

"  Seth  and  myself  was  talkin'  it  over  as 
we  came  along,  kinder  takin'  our  bearin's, 
and  this  is  the  way  it  looks  to  us.  Mis'  Tree 
was  born  in  this  village,  and  lived  in  it  a 
hundred  and  two  years,  and  died  in  it; 
and  her  folks,  the  Trees  and  the  Darra,cotts, 
have  lived  and  died  here  since  there  was  a 


50  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

village  to  die  in.  Not  one  of  them  hun 
dred  V  two  years  —  since  she  was  of  knowl 
edgeable  age,  —  but  she  was  doin'  good  — 
in  her  own  way  —  from  the  first  day  of  Jan 
uary  to  the  last  day  of  December.  Not  one 
of  us  sittin'  here  on  this  piazzy  but  she's  done 
good  to,  one  way  or  another.  Therefore  and 
thereon-account  of  — ':  Salem  was  obvi 
ously  and  justifiably  proud  of  this  phrase, 
and  repeated  it  with  evident  enjoyment ; 
"  therefore  and  thereon-account  of,  I  say, 
and  Seth  says  with  me,  that  if  Mis'  Tree 
wanted  this  village  should  be  called  Cat's- 
foot,  or  Fiddlesticks,  or  Folderol,  or  Fudge, 
I  for  one  and  he  for  another  would  give  our 
votes  to  have  it  so  called." 

A  confusion  of  tongues  ensued,  some  agree 
ing,  some  protesting,  but,  while  the  discus 
sion  was  at  its  height,  the  stage  drove  up 
and  the  day's  session  was  over. 


CHAPTER    III. 

WHAT    THE    WOMEN    SAID 

A  FEW  days  after  this,  the  Ladies'  Society 
met  at  the  house  of  Miss  Bethia  Wax. 
There  had  been  much  discussion  among  the 
members  of  the  Society  as  to  whether  it 
were  fitting  to  hold  a  meeting  so  soon  after 
the  death  of  the  foremost  woman  of  the 
parish.  Mrs.  Worritt  said  she  for  one  would 
be  loth  to  be  found  wanting  in  respect  for 
one  who  had  been,  as  it  were,  a  mile-stone 
and  a  beacon-light  in  that  village.  Mrs. 
Weight,  on  the  other  hand,  maintained  that 
business  was  business,  and  that  the  heathen 
in  their  blindness  needed  flannel  petticoats 

just  as  much  as  they  did  last  week.     Miss 
51 


52  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Wax  herself,  a  lady  with  a  strong  sense  of 
the  proprieties,  was  in  doubt  as  to  which 
course  would  preserve  them  most  strictly. 
Finally  the  matter  was  submitted  to  Mrs. 
Geoffrey  Strong  for  decision. 

"  There  is  only  one  wish  in  my  mind, 
Vesta,"  said  Miss  Wax,  "  and  that  is  to 
show  the  highest  respect  for  our  venerable 
friend,  and  I  speak,  I  am  sure,  for  the  whole 
Society.  The  question  is,  how  best  to  show 
it." 

Vesta  Strong  reflected  a  moment.  "  I 
think,  Miss  Wax,"  she  said,  "  it  will  be 
wisest  to  hold  the  meeting.  I  am  quite  sure 
Aunt  Marcia  would  have  wished  it.  But 
you  might,  perhaps,  give  it  a  rather  special 
character ;  make  it  something  of  a  memorial 
meeting.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

Miss  Wax's  face  brightened. 

"  Excellent,"  she  said.  "  Vesta,  I  do  think 
that  would  be  excellent.  I  am  real  glad  T 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  53 

came  to  you.  I  will  have  the  room  draped 
in  mourning.  Tapes  has  some  nice  black 
bombazine,  a  little  injured  by  water,  but  — 

Vesta  suppressed  a  shudder.  "  Oh,  no, 
Miss  Wax !  "  she  said.  "  I  wouldn't  do  that. 
Aunt  Marcia  did  not  like  display  of  any 
kind,  you  know1.  Your  pleasant  parlors 
just  as  they  are  will  be  much  better,  I  am 
sure." 

"  I  do  aim  at  showing  my  respect !  " 
pleaded  Miss  Wax.  "  Perhaps  we  might  all 
wear  a  crape  rosette,  or  streamer.  What 
do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

But  Vesta  did  not  think  well  even  of  this, 
and  Miss  Wax  reluctantly  abandoned  the 
plan  of  official  mourning,  though  determined 
to  show  her  respect  in  her  own  way  as  re 
garded  her  own  person.  She  was  a  very  tall 
woman,  with  a  figure  which,  in  youth,  had 
been  called  willowy,  and  was  now  unkindly 
termed  scraggy.  She  had  been  something 


54  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

of  a  beauty,  and  there  was  a  note  of  the 
pathetic  in  her  ringlets  and  the  few  girlish 
trinkets  she  habitually  wore,  —  a  coral  neck 
lace,  which  at  sixteen  had  set  off  admirably 
the  whiteness  of  her  neck,  but  which  at  fifty 
did  not  harmonize  so  well  with  the  prevail 
ing  sallow  tint;  a  blue  enamel  locket  on 
a  slender  gold  chain,  etc.  She  was  very  fond 
of  pink,  and  could  never  forget,  poor  lady, 
that  Pindar  Ilollopeter  had  once  called  her 
a  lily  dressed  in  rose-leaves.  But,  though 
a  trifle  fantastic,  Miss  Bethia  was  as  good 
a  soul  as  ever  wore  prunella  shoes,  and  her 
desire  to  do  honor  to  Mrs.  Tree's  memory 
was  genuine  and  earnest.  Her  soul  yearned 
for  the  black  bombazine  hangings,  but  she 
was  loyal  to  Vesta's  expressed  wish,  and 
contented  herself  with  removing  certain 
rose-colored  scarfs  and  sofa-pillows,  which 
on  ordinary  occasions  of  entertainment  were 
the  delight  of  her  eyes.  She  had  gathered 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  55 

all  the  white  flowers  she  could  find,  and  had 
arranged  a  kind  of  trophy  of  silver  coffee- 
spoons  on  the  mantelpiece,  surrounding  a 
black  velvet  band,  on  which  was  worked  in 
silver  tinsel  the  inscription: 

"  HER    WE    HONOR." 

Miss  Bethia  had  meant  to  have  a  photo 
graph  of  Mrs.  Tree  in  the  centre  of  this 
sombre  glory,  but  no  photograph  was  to  be 
had.  Mrs.  Tree  had  stoutly  refused  to  be 
photographed,  or  to  have  her  portrait  painted 
in  her  later  years. 

"  Folderol !  "  she  used  to  say,  when  urged 
by  loving  friends  or  relatives.  "  When  I 
go,  I'm  going,  all  there  is  of  me.  I  shall 
leave  my  gowns,  because  they  are  good  satin, 
but  I'm  not  going  to  leave  my  old  rags,  nor 
the  likeness  of  old  rags.  Cat's  foot!  don't 
talk  to  me  !  " 

So,  except  the  miniature  which  was  Vesta 


56  UBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Strong's  choicest  treasure,  the  portrait  of 
the  brilliant,  flashing  little  beauty  whom 
Ethan  Tree  named  the  Pocket  Venus  when 
first  he  saw  her,  and  whom  he  vowed  then 
and  there  to  woo  and  win,  there  was  no  por 
trait  of  Mrs.  Tree;  but  Miss  Wax  put  a 
cluster  of  immortelles  above  the  inscription, 
and  hoped  it  would  "  convey  the  idea." 

In  her  own  person,  as  has  already  been 
said,  Miss  Bethia  felt  that  she  could  brook 
no  dictation,  even  from  Vesta.  Accordingly, 
as  the  hour  of  the  meeting  approached,  she 
arrayed  herself  in  a  trailing  robe  of  black 
cashmere,  with  long  bands  of  crape  hanging 
from  the  shoulders.  Examining  with  anx 
ious  care  her  slender  stock  of  trinkets,  she 
selected  a  mourning  brooch  of  the  size  of  a 
small  saucer,  which  displayed  under  glass 
an  urn  and  weeping  willow  in  the  choicest 
style  of  hair  jewelry,  and  two  hair  bracelets, 
one  a  broad,  massive  band  clasped  with  a 


WHAT    THE    WOMEN  SAID  57 

miniature,  the  other  a  chain  of  globules  not 
unlike  the  rockweed  bladders  that  children 
love  to  dry  and  "  pop  "  between  their  fin 
gers.  Hair  jewelry  survived  in  Elmerton 
long  after  it  was  forgotten  in  other  places. 
Miss  Wax  herself  was  a  skilful  worker  in 
it,  and  might  often  be  seen  bending  over  the 
curious  little  round  table,  from  the  centre 
of  which  radiated  numerous  fine  strands  of 
hair,  black,  brown,  or  golden,  hanging  over 
the  edge  and  weighted  with  leaden  pellets. 
To  see  Miss  Bethia's  long  fingers  weaving 
the  strands  into  braids  or  chains  was  a  quaint 
and  pleasant  sight. 

Her  toilet  completed,  the  good  lady  sur 
veyed  herself  earnestly  in  the  oval  mirror, 
gave  a  gentle  sigh,  half  approval,  half  regret 
ful  reminiscence,  and  went  down  to  the  par 
lor.  Here  she  seated  herself  in  her  favorite 
chair  and  her  favorite  attitude.  The  chair 
was  an  ancient  one,  of  slender  and  graceful 


58  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

shape ;  and  the  attitude  —  somehow  —  was 
a  good  deal  like  the  chair.  Both  were  as 
accurate  reproductions  as  might  be  of  a  pic 
ture  that  hung  over  Miss  Bethia's  head  as 
she  sat,  the  portrait  of  a  handsome  young 
woman  with  long,  black  ringlets,  arched  eye 
brows,  and  dark,  expressive  eyes.  Miss 
Bethia  had  been  said  to  resemble  this  por 
trait  of  her  great-great-aunt,  and  the  resem 
blance  was  one  winch  she  was  loth  to  re 
linquish.  Accordingly,  she  loved  to  sit  under 
it,  in  the  same  chair  that  the  picture  showed, 
leaning  one  elbow  on  the  same  little  table, 
her  cheek  resting  on  the  same  fingers  of  the 
same  hand,  —  the  index  and  middle  fingers, 
—  while  the  others  curved  outward  at  a 
graceful  angle.  When  seated  thus,  somebody 
was  pretty  sure  to  call  attention  to  the 
resemblance,  and  not  the  most  ill-natured 
gossip  could  grudge  Miss  Bethia  the  mild 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  59 

pleasure  that  beamed  in  her  eyes  whenever 
it  was  noted. 

There  might  be  a  slight  resemblance,  she 
would  say  modestly.  It  had  been  remarked 
upon,  she  might  say,  more  than  once.  The 
lady  was  her  relative,  and  likenesses  ran 
strong  in  her  family. 

Tommy  Candy  had  once  irreverently 
named  Miss  Wax's  parlor  "  the  Wax  Works," 
and  the  name  had  stuck,  as  naughty  nick 
names  are  apt  to  do.  It  was  indeed  quite 
a  little  museum  in  itself  of  the  fruit  of 
bygone  accomplishments.  Wax  fruit,  wax 
flowers  —  chiefly  roses  — •  in  profusion,  all 
carefully  guarded  by  glass;  pictures  in 
worsted  work,  pictures  in  hair  work,  all  in 
home-made  frames  of  pinked  leather,  of  var 
nished  acorns,  of  painted  velvet;  vases  and 
jars  decorated  with  potichomanie,  with  de- 
calcomanie,  with  spatter-work.  One  would 
think  that  not  one,  but  seven,  Misses  Wax 


60  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

had  spent  their  entire  lives  in  adorning  this 
one  room. 

But  the  first  guests  to  arrive  on  this  occa 
sion  gave  little  heed  either  to  the  room  or 
to  the  attitude  of  their  hostess,  even  though, 
as  usual,  Miss  Wax  sat  still  for  a  moment, 
with  an  air  of  gentle  appeal,  before  rising 
to  receive  them.  Mrs.  Deacon  Weight  is 
older  than  when  we  last  met  her,  and  her 
surname  is  even  more  appropriate  than  it 
was  then ;  three  hundred  pounds  of  too,  too 
solid  flesh  are  encased  in  that  brown  alpaca 
dress,  and  her  inspiration  in  trimming  it 
with  transverse  bands  of  black  velvet  was  not 
a  happy  one.  Mrs.  Weight  was  accompanied 
by  Miss  Eliza  Goby,  a  lady  whose  high  com 
plexion  and  protruding  eyes  made  her  look 
rather  more  like  a  boiled  lobster  than  any 
thing  else. 

These  two  ladies,  having  obeyed  the  in 
junction  of  Miss  Wax's  handmaid  to  "  lay 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  61 

off  their  things  "  in  the  best  bedroom,  entered 
the  parlor  with  an  eager  air. 

Miss  Wax,  after  her  little  pause,  came  for 
ward  to  meet  them. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Malvina,"  she  said ; 
"  Eliza,  I  am  pleased  to  see  you,  I  am 
sure.  Be  seated,  ladies,  please."  She 
waved  her  hand  gracefully  toward  a  couple 
of  chairs,  and  resumed  her  attitude,  though 
more  from  force  of  habit  and  a  consciousness 
that  others  more  appreciative  were  coming 
than  from  any  sense  of  impressing  these 
first  comers. 

Mrs.  Weight  seated  herself  with  emphasis, 
and  drew  her  chair  near  to  that  of  her  host 
ess,  motioning  her  companion  to  do  likewise. 

"  Bethia,"  she  said,  "  we  came  early  o' 
purpose,  because  we  were  wishful  to  see  you 
alone  for  a  minute  before  folks  came.  We 
want  to  know  what  stand  you  are  prepared 
to  take." 


62  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  That's  it !  "  said  Miss  Goby,  who  had 
a  short,  snapping  utterance,  such  as  a  lobster 
might  have  if  it  were  endowed  with  powers 
of  speech.  "  What  stand  you  are  prepared 
to  take !  " 

"Stand?"  repeated  Miss  Wax.  "I  do 
not  quite  comprehend  you,  ladies.  I  usually 
rise  to  receive  each  guest,  and  then  resume 
my  seat;  it  seems  less  formal  and  more 
friendly;  and  it  fatigues  me  very  much 
to  stand  long,"  added  the  poor  lady,  with 
a  glance  at  the  portrait. 

"  Land !  "  said  Mrs.  Weight.  "  That  isn't 
what  we  mean,  Bethia.  We  mean  about  this 
will  of  Mis'  Tree's." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Miss  Wax.  As  she  spoke, 
she  sat  upright,  and  the  attitude  was  for 
gotten. 

"  We  are  wishful  to  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Weight,  "  whether  you  think  that  the  name 
of  a  place  is  to  be  changed  back  and  forth 


63 

to  suit  the  fancy  of  folks  as  weren't  in  their 
right  minds,  and  are  dead  and  buried  be 
sides.  What  I  say  is  for  this  room  only, 
ladies.  I  am  not  one  to  spread  abroad,  and 
I  should  be  lawth  indeed  to  speak  ill  of  the 
dead,  and  them  I've  lived  opposite  neighbors 
to  for  thirty  years,  —  whether  neighborly  in 
their  actions  or  not,  I  will  not  say.  But 
what  I  do  say  is,  there's  them  in  this  village 
as  has  been  browbeat  and  gormineered  over 
for  the  hull  of  their  earthly  sojourn,  and 
they  don't  propose  to  be  browbeat  and  gormi 
neered  over  from  beyond  the  grave,  in  which 
direction  forbid  it  as  a  Christian  and  the 
widder  of  a  sainted  man  that  I  should  say." 
Before  Miss  Wax  could  reply,  a  murmur 
of  voices  was  heard  in  the  hall,  and  the  next 
moment  the  Society  entered  in  a  body. 
There  were  women  of  all  ages,  from  old 
Mrs.  Snow,  who  now  stood  in  the  proud  posi 
tion  of  oldest  inhabitant,  down  to  Annie 


64  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Lizzie  Weight,  who  was  only  seventeen. 
Miss  Penny  Pardon  was  there ;  Mrs.  Pottle, 
the  doctor's  wife;  and  little  Mrs.  Bliss  from 
the  parsonage.  There  were  perhaps  thirty 
women  in  all,  representing  the  best  society 
of  Elmerton. 

Miss  Wax  received  them  with  a  troubled 
air,  very  different  from  her  usual  pensive 
calm.  A  red  spot  burned  in  the  centre  of 
each  cheek,  and  her  eyes  were  bright  with 
suppressed  excitement.  Mrs.  Pottle,  observ 
ing  her,  decided  that  she  was  in  for  a  fever, 
and  cast  her  mind's  eye  over  the  doctor's 
engagements  for  the  next  few  weeks.  "  She's 
liable  to  have  a  long  run  of  it !  "  said  Mrs. 
Pottle  to  herself.  "  I'm  thankful  that  Doc 
tor  Strong  went  back  yesterday,  so  the  poor 
soul  will  have  proper  treatment." 

This  was  not  a  social,  but  a  working,  meet 
ing.  Every  woman  came  armed  with  thim 
ble  and  work-bag,  and  a  large  basket  being 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  65 

produced,  flannel  and  calico  were  dealt  out 
by  Miss  Wax,  and  all  set  busily  to  work. 
But  Miss  Wax,  instead  of  taking  up  her  own 
needle,  exchanged  a  few  words  with  Mrs. 
Bliss.  Mrs.  Ware,  a  sweet-faced  woman  of 
fifty,  invited  by  a  look,  joined  them,  and 
there  was  a  low-voiced  consultation;  then 
Miss  Wax  rose  and  stood  under  the  portrait 
and  beside  the  mantelpiece  with  its  trophy 
of  black  and  silver. 

"  Ladies  of  the  Society,"  she  said ;  her 
thin  treble  voice  trembled  at  first,  and  she 
fingered  her  bead  reticule  nervously,  but  she 
gathered  strength  as  she  went  on.  "  Ladies 
of  the  Society,  I  asked  our  pastor's  wife  to 
address  you,  but  Mrs.  Bliss  has  a  cold  and 
feels  unable  so  to  do.  I  will  therefore  say 
a  few  words,  though  well  aware  how  unfitted 
I  am  for  such  a  task."  She  paused,  and 
touched  her  lips  delicately  with  a  black-bor 
dered  handkerchief. 


66  MBS.    TBEE'S   WILL 

"  This  occasion,  ladies,  is  a  mournful  one 
to  most  —  I  trust  I  may  say  to  all  —  in 
this  village.  It  is  some  years  since  —  owing 
to  advancing  years  —  we  have  seen  Her  we 
honor  at  the  meetings  of  this  Society;  but 
she  was  in  former  years  a  prop  and  a  pillar 
of  this  Society,  as  she  was  of  this  village; 
and  it  is  the  desire  of  many,  as  expressed 
to  me,  that  this  meeting  should  be  a  memorial 
in  honor  of  —  of  Her  we  honor,  —  Mrs. 
Ethan  Tree." 

She  waved  her  hand  toward  the  trophy 
with  an  air  of  introducing  the  ladies  to  it. 
For  the  life  of  her,  little  Mrs.  Bliss  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  Red  Queen's 
introduction :  "  Pudding  —  Alice ;  Alice  — 
Pudding !  "  Most  of  the  ladies  had  a  con 
fused  feeling  that  they  ought  to  rise,  and 
glanced  at  each  other,  half  getting  their 
work  together,  but  Mrs.  Bliss  remained 
seated,  and  they  followed  her  example.  The 


WHAT  THE    WOMEN  SAID  67 

little  minister's  wife  had  loved  Mrs.  Tree 
devotedly,  but  she  had  a  keen  sense  of  the 
ludicrous;  and,  after  the  unseemly  recol 
lections  referred  to,  she  could  not  help  re 
calling  certain  words  spoken  to  her  in  a  clear, 
incisive  voice  not  so  many  weeks  ago: 
"  Ladies'  Society,  child  ?  Bah !  Parcel  of 
fools !  I  get  all  of  their  society  I  want, 
sitting  here  in  this  chair." 

"  It  would  have  been  my  wish,"  Miss 
Wax  continued,  "  that  the  Society  should 
have  testified  as  a  Society  to  the  fact  that 
this  was  a  memorial  meeting ;  it  would  have 
been  my  wish  that  each  lady  should  wear  a 
crape  rosette,  or  the  like  of  that,  in  token 
of  mourning;  but  it  was  not  agreeable  to 
the  family,  and,  if  we  wear  them  in  our  own 
hearts,  ladies,  it  may  do  equally  as  well, 
if  worn  sincerely,  which  I  am  sure  most,  if 
not  all,  do." 

She   paused   again    to    sigh    and   lift   the 


68  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

handkerchief,  with  her  favorite  delicate  ac 
tion  of  the  third  and  fourth  fingers. 

"  This  small  token,"  she  continued,  in 
troducing  the  trophy  anew,  "  is  but  a  small 
one,  and  I  could  wish  that  gold  instead  of 
silver  were  procurable,  for  gold  was  the  heart 
of  Her  we  honor,  and,  though  velvet  does 
not  precisely  describe  her  manner,  ladies, 
still  well  we  know  that  out  of  the  fulness  of 
the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh,  and  the  heart 
being  golden,  the  velvet  is  —  a  —  I  am  sure 
—  that  is  to  say,  velvet  and  gold  are  often 
associated  as  tokens  of  richness,  and  —  and 
the  nature  of  Her  we  honor  was  rich  in  good 
ness,  and  —  " 

Here  poor  Miss  Wax  became  hopelessly 
involved,  and  taking  refuge  in  a  fit  of  cough 
ing,  looked  imploringly  at  Mrs.  Bliss.  Thus 
silently  adjured,  the  little  lady  rose,  and 
in  a  few  quiet  words  expressed  the  hearty 
sympathy  of  all  present  in  Miss  Wax's  feel- 


69 

ing,  and  their  gratitude  to  her  for  the  grace 
ful  tribute  she  had  preferred.  A  rising  vote 
of  thanks  was  then  passed,  and  the  Society 
settled  to  their  labors. 

For  some  time  nothing  was  heard  but 
requests  for  the  shears  and  wonderings,  who 
cut  this  gore  ?  and  the  like ;  but  the  same 
thought  was  in  all  the  ladies'  minds,  and 
as  soon  as  was  practicable  the  talk  began 
again.  Miss  Eliza  Goby  nudged  Miss  Lu- 
ella  Slocum,  a  sharp-nosed  lady  with  one 
eye  that  rolled  like  a  marble  and  another 
that  bored  like  a  gimlet. 

"  You  speak,  Luella !  "  she  said  in  a  half- 
whisper.  "  Speak  up  and  say  what  you  said 
to  me  and  Mrs.  Weight  this  morning." 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Weight  ought  to  speak  up 
herself,"  replied  Miss  Slocum,  in  the  same 
tone.  "  She's  older  than  me ;  it  behooves 
her,  a  deacon's  widow  and  all.  I  don't  feel 


70  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

any  call  to  begin,  Eliza;  though  I  am  ready 
to  testify  when  it  comes  my  turn." 

Apparently  Mrs.  Weight  was  of  the  same 
opinion,  for  she  now  began  the  attack  cau 
tiously. 

"  The  Society  having  expressed  its  views 
on  this  subject,  Miss  Wax  and  ladies,  there 
is  another  on  which  I  feel  we  have  a  call 
to  speak  together.  As  one  of  the  oldest  pres 
ent,  and  the  widder  of  a  sainted  man,  I  may 
have  my  own  opinions,  and  they  may  be 
of  consequence,  or  they  may  not;  but  how- 
beit,  there  is  them  present  as  has  sojourned 
longer  than  me  in  this  earthly  pilgrimage, 
and  I  should  wish  to  hear  from  Mrs.  Philena 
Snow  as  to  what  are  her  sentiments  in  re 
gards  to  changing  the  name  of  this  village." 

Mrs.  Snow,  an  old  lady  of  somewhat  be 
wildered  aspect,  had  learned  in  the  course 
of  eighty-odd  years  that  a  decided  opinion 
was  sometimes  a  dangerous  thing.  Replying 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  71 

to  Mrs.  Weight's  request,  she  said  that  she 
didn't  know  as  it  made  any  perticklar  dif 
ference  to  her  what  the  village  was  called; 
she  hadn't  very  much  longer  to  stay  in  it, 
she  presumed  likely.  It  used  to  be  Quahaug, 
but  some  thought  that  wasn't  a  pretty  sound 
ing  name,  and  she  didn't  know  but  Elmerton 
was  prettier ;  and  yet  there  was  others 
thought  —  and  so  the  old  lady  murmured 
herself  away  into  silence.  A  confused  hub 
bub  of  voices  arose,  but  little  Mrs.  Bliss, 
saying  to  herself,  '  Oh,  for  one  hour  of  Dun 
dee,  —  one  minute  of  Mrs.  Tree !  "  rose  to 
the  occasion. 

"  Ladies,"  she  said,  "  though  this  village, 
Elmerton  or  Quahaug,  whichever  it  is,  has 
grown  to  seem  like  home,  and  a  very  dear 
home,  to  me,  I  still  am  comparatively  speak 
ing  a  newcomer.  I  should  be  very  glad  if 
some  one  lady  would  tell  me  in  a  few  words 
how  and  why  the  change  was  originally 


72  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

made.  Mrs.  Ware,  perhaps  you  will  be  so 
good !  " 

Mrs.  Ware's  gentle  face  wore  a  disturbed 
look,  but  she  responded  promptly. 

"  The  change  was  made  many  years  ago, 
but  I  remember  it  distinctly.  The  old  Indian 
name  was  Quahaug,  and  no  one  ever  thought 
of  any  other  name  till  Mr.  Swain  came  to 
be  pastor  here.  Mrs.  Swain  had  a  poetic 
turn,  and  she  thought  Quahaug  an  awkward- 
sounding  name,  and  made  considerable  talk 
to  that  effect  round  the  village.  A  petition 
to  the  Legislature  was  circulated,  and  many 
people  signed  it,  and  so  the  name  was 
changed  to  Elmerton.  Mrs.  Tree  was  away 
at  the  time,  on  a  voyage  around  the  world, 
and  when  she  came  back  she  was  much  in 
censed,  I  remember,  and  expressed  herself 
strongly.  I  always  thought  it  a  pity  my 
self  to  change  the  old  name." 

"  Phoebe  Blyth  was  for  the  change,"  said 


WHAT  THE    WOMEN  SAID  73 

Miss  Eliza  Goby.  "  Phoebe  and  I  were  of 
one  mind  on  the  subject." 

"  It's  the  only  time  you  ever  were ! " 
thought  Miss  Wax,  but  she  did  not  speak  the 
thought. 

"  Phrebe  Blyth  had  some  peculiar  ideas," 
said  Mrs.  Weight,  "  but  she  showed  her 
sense  that  time.  Mis'  Swain  was  a  beautiful 
woman,  and  her  ideas  was  beautiful  simu- 
larly.  Why,  she  wrote  an  elegant  poem 
about  it: 

"  <  Sure  ne'er  a  village  'neath  the  sun 
More  lovely  is  than  Elmerton.' 

Those  were  the  first  lines.  I've  got  it  copied 
out  at  home.  I  never  thought  Homer  Hollo- 
peter's  poetry  was  a  patch  on  Mis'  Swain's." 
"  Homer  was  strong  against  the  change," 
said  Miss  Wax.  "  Both  Homer  and  Pindar, 
and  two  more  intellectual  men  this  village 
has  never  seen.  I  don't  wish  to  say  any- 


74  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

thing  against  Mrs.  Swain,  but  I  for  one 
never  thought  she  had  anything  like  Homer's 
gift.  He  was  asked  to  write  a  poem  on  the 
subject,  but  he  said  his  Muse  scorned  such 
a  name  as  Elmerton." 

"  It's  the  first  thing  ever  his  Muse  did 
scorn,  I  guess,"  retorted  Miss  Luella  Slocum. 
"  It's  my  belief  Homer  would  write  verses 
to  a  scarecrow  if  he  had  nothing  else  to 
write  about." 

"  I  didn't  know  he  ever  wrote  any  to  you, 
Luella,"  said  Miss  Penny  Pardon,  her  usu 
ally  gentle  spirit  roused  to  anger  by  this 
attack  on  one  whom  she  considered  a  great 
though  unappreciated  poet. 

"  Ladies !  ladies !  "  said  little  Mrs.  Bliss, 
"  pray  let  us  keep  to  the  point.  We  are  not 
here  to  discuss  Mr.  Hollopeter's  poetry. 
Perhaps  we  would  better  change  the  subject 
altogether,  and  confine  our  conversation  to 
subjects  connected  with  our  work." 


WHAT   THE    WOMEN  SAID  75 

"  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Bliss !  "  said  Mrs. 
Weight.  "  Though  well  aware  that  since 
the  death  of  the  sainted  man  whose  name 
I  bear,  I  am  of  no  account  in  this  village, 
still  I  have  my  feelings  and  I  am  a  human 
being,  —  deny  it  who  can,  —  and,  while  I 
have  breath  to  speak,  —  which  by  reason  of 
spasms  growing  on  me  may  not  be  long,  —  I 
will  protest  against  changing  the  name  of 
this  village  back  to  heathen  and  publican 
names,  from  which  it  was  rescued  by  them 
as  now  fills  mansions  in  the  sky.  I  would 
not  wish  to  be  understood  as  reflecting  on 
anybody,  and  I  name  no  names ;  but  them 
as  has  lived  on  flowery  beds  of  ease,  no  mat 
ter  how  long,  cannot  expect  to  gormineer 
over  this  village  to  all  eternity;  and  so  I 
proclaim,  — •  hear  me  who  will." 

Mrs.  Weight  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and 
stood  heaving  and  panting,  a  mountain  of 
protest.  Mrs.  Bliss  would  have  interfered, 


76  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled  meeting,  but  be 
fore  she  could  speak  the  tall  form  of  Miss 
Bethia  Wax  had  risen,  and  stood  rigid, 
pointing  to  the  trophy. 

"  Ladies  of  the  Society,"  she  said,  "  and 
our  honored  pastor's  wife :  I  cannot  sit  still 
and  listen  to  words  which  are  aimed  at  Her 
we  honor.  This  is  a  memorial  meeting, 
sanctioned  as  such  by  the  family  of  Her 
we  honor.  She  died  as  she  lived,  with  this 
village  on  her  mind  and  in  her  heart,  and 
she  has  given  of  her  basket  and  her  store, 
her  treasures  of  earth  and  treasures  of  sea, 
and  gems  of  purest  ray  serene;  she  has 
given  all,  save  such  as  needed  by  the  family, 
to  this  village,  to  have  and  to  hold  till  death 
do  them  part ;  and  what  I  say  is,  shame  upon 
us  if  we  cannot  obey  the  wishes  of  Her  we 
honor,  our  benefactress,  who  wafts  us  from 
the  other  shore  her  parting  benediction !  " 

But   neither   Mrs.    Bliss   nor   Miss   Wax 


77 

could  longer  stem  the  tide  of  speech.  It 
ran,  swelled,  overflowed,  a  torrent  of  talk. 

"  Never  in  my  born  days !  " 

"  I'd  like  to  know  who  had  the  right  if 
she  hadn't!" 

"  I  s'pose  we've  got  some  rights  of  our 
own,  if  we  ain't  rich  in  this  world's  goods." 

"  I  should  laugh  if  we  were  to  change 
back  at  this  time  of  day." 

"  I  should  like  to  remind  you,  Mrs. 
Weight,  that- 

«  «  While  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn, 
The  vilest  sinner  may  return  ! '  " 

"  Mrs.  Bliss  and  ladies :  I  have  not  lived 
in  this  village  seventy  years  to  be  called  the 
vilest  sinner  in  it.  I  appeal  to  this  society 
if  names  is  to  be  called  at  a  meeting  where 
the  members  are  supposed  to  be  Chris 
tians  —  " 

But  Mrs.  Bliss,  though  little,  could,  like 


78  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Hermia,  be  fierce,  and  it  was  in  a  very  per 
emptory  tone  that  she  exclaimed: 

"  The  discussion  on  this  subject  is  closed. 
Sister  Slocum,  will  you  give  out  the  hymn  ?  " 
and  Miss  Luella  Slocum,  one  eye  gleaming 
hatred  and  the  other  malice,  announced  that 
the  Society  would  now  join  in  singing 
"  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds !  " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MOSTLY    GOSSIP 

"  MY  DEAR  DOCTOR  STRONG  :  —  The  deed 
is  done !  The  selectmen  met  last  night,  and 
voted  to  memorialize  the  Legislature  in  re 
gard  to  changing  the  name  of  the  village; 
and,  as  the  rest  is  a  mere  matter  of  business 
routine,  I  think  we  may  regard  the  thing 
as  settled.  So,  as  dear  Mrs.  Tree  said,  '  Hoo 
ray  for  Quahaug !  '  The  vote  was  not  unan 
imous;  that  was  hardly  to  be  expected. 
John  Peavey  was  opposed  to  the  change,  so 
was  George  Goby ;  but  the  general  senti 
ment  was  strong  in  favor  of  carrying  out 
Mrs.  Tree's  wishes.  That,  of  course,  is  the 

real  issue,  and  it  is  beautiful  to  see  the  spirit 

79 


80  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

of  affection  and  loyalty  that  animates  the 
majority  of  our  people.  Surely,  our  be 
loved  old  friend  has  built  herself  a  monu 
ment  cere  perennio  in  the  hearts  of  her 
neighbors. 

"  I  write  this  hasty  line,  feeling  sure  that 
you  and  Mrs.  Strong  will  be  anxious  to  hear 
the  outcome  of  the  meeting. 

"  With  kindest  regards  to  both,  and  af 
fectionate  greeting  to  the  little  flock,  believe 
me  always  Faithfully  yours, 

"  JOHN  BLISS." 

The  little  minister  sealed  and  addressed 
his  note,  then  took  his  hat  and  stick  and 
started  for  the  post-office. 

"  You  won't  forget  my  pink  worsted, 
John !  "  and  Mrs.  Bliss  popped  her  pretty 
head  out  of  the  window. 

"  Certainly  not,  my  dear !  certainly  not !  " 
said  Mr.  Bliss,  with  an  air  of  collecting  his 


GOOD    MORNING,     SKTII  !  '     SAID     THE     LITTLE 
MINISTER  " 


MOSTLY  GOSSIP  81 

wits  hurriedly.  "  Pink  worsted ;  to  be  sure ! 
At  Miss  Pardon's,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  Saxony ;  you  have  the  sam 
ple  in  your  pocket,  pinned  into  an  envelope. 
Two  skeins,  John  dear.  Now  do  you  think 
you  can  get  that  right?  It  is  a  shame  to 
make  you  do  such  things,  but  I  cannot  leave 
Baby,  and  he  really  needs  the  jacket." 

"  Of  course,  Marietta;  of  course,  my  dear ! 
You  know  I  am  only  too  glad  to  help  in  little 
ways ;  I  wish  I  could  do  more !  " 

"  It  is  so  little  a  man  can  do !  "  he  re 
flected,  as  he  paced  along  the  village  street; 
"  and  Marietta's  care  is  incessant.  Mother 
hood  is  a  blessed  but  a  most  laborious  state." 

Arrived  at  the  post-office,  he  found  Seth 
Weaver  perched  on  a  ladder,  inspecting  the 
weather-beaten  sign-board,  which  bore  the 
legend,  "  Elmerton  Post-office." 

"  Good  morning,  Seth !  "  said  the  little 
minister. 


82  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  Same  to  you,  Elder !  "  replied  Seth, 
taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth.  "  Nice 
day !  I  was  lookin'  to  see  whether  we'd 
need  us  a  new  sign,  but  I  guess  this  board' 11 
do,  come  to  scrape  and  plane  it.  It's  a  good 
pine  board;  stood  a  lot  o'  weather,  this 
board  has.  My  father  painted  this." 

"  Did  he  so,  Seth  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bliss.  "  I 
was  not  aware  that  your  father  was  a 
painter." 

"  Painter,  carpenter,  odd-job  man,  same's 
me!  He  learned  me  all  his  trades,  and  too 
many  of  'em.  It  would  be  money  in  my 
pocket  to-day  if  I  didn't  know  the  half  of 
'em." 

Seth  sat  down  on  the  top  round  of  the 
ladder  —  it  was  a  short  one  —  and  took  out 
his  knife  and  a  bit  of  soft  wood.  The  min 
ister  sighed,  thinking  of  his  sermon  at  home 
half-written,  but  accepted  the  unspoken  in 
vitation. 


MOSTLY   GOSSIP  83 

"  How  is  that,  Seth  ?  "  he  asked,  cheer- 
fully. 

Seth  settled  himself  comfortably  —  it  is 
not  every  man  who  can  sit  comfortably  on 
a  ladder  —  and,  squaring  his  shoulders,  be 
gan  to  whittle  complacently. 

"  Wai,  Elder,  It  stands  to  reason,"  he  said. 
"  A  man  can  be  one  thing,  or  he  can  be  two 
things;  but  when  he  starts  out  to  be  the 
hull  string  of  fish,  he  ends  by  not  bein'  nary 
one  of  'em.  It  takes  all  of  a  thing  to  make 
the  hull  of  it;  yes,  sir.  I  don't  mean  that 
Father  was  that  way;  Father  was  a  smart 
man ;  and  I've  tried  to  make  a  shift  to  keep 
up  with  the  tail  of  the  procession  myself; 
but  I  tell  ye  there's  ben  times  when  I've 
wished  I  didn't  know  how  to  handle  a  livin' 
thing  except  my  paint-brush.  Come  spring, 
I  tell  ye  I  lose  weight,  projeckin'  round  this 
village.  One  wants  his  blinds  painted  right 
off  day  before  yesterday,  and  another'll  get 


84  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

his  everlastin'  if  his  roof  isn't  mended  be 
fore  sundown.  It's  '  Oh,  Seth,  when  be  you 
comin'  to  hang  that  bell-wire  ? '  and  '  Seth, 
where  was  you  yesterday  when  you  wasn't 
mendin'  that  gate-post  ? '  and  —  I  dono  ! 
sometimes  I  get  so  worked  up  I  think  I'll 
do  the  way  Father  did.  Father  never  both 
ered  with  'em.  He  just  laid  out  his  week 
to  suit  himself.  Two  days  he'd  paint,  and 
two  days  he'd  odd-job,  and  two  days  he'd 
fish.  Further  and  moreover,  whatever  he 
was  doin',  he'd  do  it  his  own  way.  Paintin' 
days,  he'd  use  the  paint  he  had  till  he  used 
it  up.  Didn't  make  no  difference  what  folks 
said  to  him;  he  was  just  that  deef  he  only 
heard  what  he  wanted  to,  and  he  didn't  care. 
Gorry !  I  can  see  him  now,  layin'  on  the 
blue  paint  on  old  Mis'  Snow's  door,  and  she 
screechin'  at  him,  '  Green !  green,  I  tell  ye ! 
I  want  it  green !  '  Old  Father,  he  never 
took  no  notice,  and  that  door  stayed  blue  till 


MOSTLY   GOSSIP  85 

it  wore  off.  Yes,  sir!  that  was  the  way  to 
handle  'em;  but  I  can't  seem  to  fetch  it. 
Guess  I  was  whittled  out  of  a  softer  stick, 
kind  o'  popple  stuff,  without  no  spunk  to 
it.  A  woman  tells  me  she  must  have  a  new 
spout  to  her  pump  or  she'll  die,  and  I'm 
that  kind  of  fool  I  think  she  will,  and  leave 
all  else  to  whittle  out  that  pump-spout.  Wai, 
it  takes  all  kinds.  That  was  quite  a  meetin' 
last  night,  Elder." 

"  It  was  indeed,"  Mr.  Bliss  assented.  "  A 
notable  meeting,  Seth.  As  I  have  just  been 
writing  to  Doctor  Strong,  it  was  a  great 
pleasure  to  find  the  feeling  so  nearly  unani 
mous  in  regard  to  carrying  out  the  wishes  of 
our  revered  friend." 

Seth  grinned. 

"  Yes !  "  he  said.  "  Me  and  Salem  saw 
to  that." 

"  Saw  to  it  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Bliss. 

"  We  went  round  and  sized  folks  up,  kind 


86  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

of;  you  know  the  way,  Elder;  same  as  you 
do  come  parish-meetin'  time.  No  offence ! 
There  don't  everybody  know  which  way 
they're  goin'  to  jump  till  you  tell  'em.  Most 
of  'em  was  all  right  enough,  and  saw  reason 
good,  same  as  we  did,  for  doin'  as  Mis'  Tree 
wished  done ;  but  there's  some  poor  sticks  in 
every  wood-pile;  John  Peavey's  one  of  'em. 
Gorry !  I  guess  likely  he'll  be  some  further 
down  the  ro'd  before  he  gets  his  shack 
painted,  unless  he  doos  it  himself.  That'll 
be  somethin'  tangible  for  him,  as  Old  Man 
Butters  said." 

He  paused,  and  a  twinkle  came  into  his 
eyes ;  but  the  minister  did  not  twinkle  back. 

"  You've  heerd  of  Uncle  Ithe's  last  prayer- 
meetin'  ?  "  said  Seth.  "  No  ?  now  ain't  that 
a  sight !  " 

He  came  down  a  round  or  two,  and  settled 
himself  afresh,  the  twinkle  deepening. 
"Uncle  Ithe  — Old  Man  Butters,  Buffy 


MOSTLY  GOSSIP  87 

Landin'  Ro'd  —  you  remember  him,  El 
der  ?  " 

"  Surely !  surely !  I  remember  Mr.  But 
ters  well,  but  I  cannot  recall  his  having 
attended  a  prayer-meeting  during  my  in 
cumbency  in  Elm —  I  would  say  Quahaug." 

Seth  chuckled.  "  No  more  you  would," 
he  said.  "  No  more  he  did.  'Twas  before 
you  come,  in  Mr.  Peake's  time.  Elder 
Peake,  he  was  a  good  man;  I've  nothin'  to 
say  against  him ;  he  meant  well,  every  time. 
But  he  was  one  of  those  kind  o'  men,  he 
had  his  two-foot  rule  in  his  pants  pocket, 
and,  if  you  squared  with  that,  you  was  all 
right,  and,  if  you  didn't,  you  was  all  wrong. 
Now  some  folks  is  like  a  two-foot  rule,  and 
some  is  like  a  kedge-anchor,  and  the  Lord 
made  'em  both,  I  expect;  but  Elder  Peake, 
he  couldn't  see  it  that  way,  and  he  took  it 
into  his  head  that  Uncle  Ithe  warn't  doin' 
as  he  should.  Old  Uncle  Ithe  —  I  dono  ! 


88  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

he  had  a  kind  o'  large  way  with  him,  as  you 
might  say;  swore  some,  and  made  too  free 
with  Scripture,  some  thought;  did  pretty 
much  as  he  was  a  mind  to,  but  cal'lated  to 
live  square,  and  so  did  —  'cordin'  to  his 
idees,  and  mine.  You  might  say  Uncle  Ithe 
was  like  —  wal,  like  this  hammer.  He 
couldn't  rule  a  straight  line,  mebbe,  but  he'd 
hit  the  nail  every  time.  Wal,  Elder  Peake 
met  up  with  him  one  day,  and  spoke  to  him 
about  his  way  of  life.  '  I'd  like  to  see  things 
a  trifle  different  with  you,  Mr.  Butters,'  he 
says ;  '  man  of  your  age  and  standin','  he 
says,  '  ought  to  be  an  example,'  he  says. 
You  know  the  way  they  talk  —  excuse  me, 
Elder.  Some  of  'em,  I  would  say.  Nothin' 
personal,  you  understand." 

"  I  understand,  Seth ;    pray  go  on." 
"  '  What  do  ye  mean  ? '  says  Uncle  Ithe. 
'  What  have  I  been  a-doin'  of,  Elder  ? ' 
"  '  Oh,  nothin'  tangible,'  says  Mr.  Peake, 


MOSTLY  GOSSIP  89 

'  nothin'  tangible,  Mr.  Butters.  I  hear 
things  now  and  again  that  don't  seem  just 
what  they  should  be  in  regards  to  your 
spiritual  condition,  —  man  of  your  age  and 
standin',  you  understand,  —  but  nothin'  tan 
gible,  nothin'  tangible !  '  And  he  waved 
himself  off,  a  way  he  ha,d,  as  if  he  was  tryin' 
to  fly  before  his  time. 

"  Old  Uncle  Ithe,  he  never  said  a  word, 
only  grunted,  and  worked  his  eyebrows  up 
and  down,  the  way  lie  had;  but  come  next 
prayer-meetin',  there  he  was,  settin'  up  in 
his  pew,  stiff  as  a  bobstay,  with  his  eye  on 
the  elder.  Elder  Peake  was  tickled  to  death 
to  think  he'd  got  the  old  man  out,  and  when 
he'd  had  his  own  say,  he  sings  out :  '  Brother 
Butters,  we  should  be  pleased  to  hear  a  few 
remarks  from  you.' 

"  Old  Uncle  Ithe,  he  riz  up  kind  o'  slow, 
a  j'int  at  a  time,  till  he  stood  his  full  hei'th. 
Gorry !  I  can  see  him  now ;  he  seemed  to  fill 


90  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

the  place.  He  looks  square  at  Elder  Peake, 
and  he  says :  '  Darn  your  old  prayer- 
meetin' !  '  he  says.  '  There's  somethin'  tan 
gible  for  ye !  '  he  says ;  and  off  he  stumped 
out  the  room,  and  never  sot  foot  in  it  ag'in. 
I  tell  ye,  he  was  a  case,  old  Uncle  Ithe." 

"  I  think  he  was,  Seth !  "  said  Mr.  Bliss, 
laughing.  "  I  am  rather  glad,  do  you  know, 
that  I  only  knew  him  later,  when  age  had 
—  in  a  degree  —  mellowed  his  disposition." 

At  this  moment  Will  Jaquith  put  his  head 
out  of  the  post-office  window. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Bliss !  "  he  said. 
"  There's  another  story  about  Old  Man  But 
ters  that  Seth  must  tell  you,  if  you  have  not 
already  heard  it,  —  about  the  trouble  with 
his  second  wife." 

Seth  twinkled  more  than  ever.  "  Sho !  " 
he  said.  "  That's  last  year's  p'tetters.  I 
make  no  doubt  Elder  Bliss  has  heard  that  a 
dozen  times." 


MOSTLY   GOSSIP  91 

"  Not  once,  I  assure  you,  Seth,"  said  Mr. 
Bliss.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  it,  and  then 
I  really  must  —  "  he  checked  himself.  Was 
not  this  an  opportunity,  come  to  him  un 
sought  ?  Seth  Weaver  was  not  as  regular 
at  church  as  could  be  wished. 

"  Pray  let  me  hear  the  anecdote !  "  he 
said,  heartily.  "  And  yet,"  he  added  to  him 
self,  "  I  caution  my  people  against  listening 
to  gossip,  — •  life  is  a  tangled  skein." 

"  That  was  before  I  was  born  or  thought 
of,"  said  Seth.  "  Undo  Ithe's  second  wife 
was  Drusilly  Sharp  (his  fust  was  a  Purring- 
ton),  and  she  was  a  Tartar.  Gra'm'ther 
Weaver  told  me  this;  she  was  own  sister 
to  Uncle  Ithe.  Gra'm'ther  used  to  say  there 
warn't  another  man  under  the  canopy  could 
have  lived  with  Drusilly  Sharp  only  her 
brother  Ithuriel.  As  I  was  sayin'  a  spell 
back,  he  had  a  kind  o'  large  way  of  lookin' 
at  things.  Gra'm'ther  says  to  him  once: 


92  MRS.    TEES'1 8    WILL 

'  I  don't  see  how  you  stand  it,  Ithuriel,'  she 
says.  '  I  don't  stand  it,'  says  Uncle  Ithe. 
'  I  git  out  from  under  foot,  and  wait  till 
the  clouds  roll  by,'  he  says.  '  Spells  she  gets 
out  of  breath,  and  them's  the  times  I  come 
into  the  kitchen.  There's  where  a  farmer 
has  the  pull/  he  says.  '  Take  a  city  man, 
and  when  he's  in  the  house  he's  in  it,  and 
obleeged  to  stay  there.  But  take  a  farmer, 
and,  if  it's  hot  in  the  kitchen,  he's  got  the 
wood-shed,  and,  when  you're  choppin7,  you 
can't  hear  what  she's  sayin','  he  says. 
'  Somebody's  got  to  put  up  with  Drusilly,' 
he  says,  '  and  I'm  used  to  it,  same  as  I  am 
red  pepper  on  my  hash.' 

"  Wai,  one  day  Uncle  Ithe  come  home, 
and  she  warn't  there.  He  found  a  note  on 
the  dresser,  sayin'  she  warn't  comin'  back, 
she  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer.  Land  knows 
what  she  had  to  stand !  She  had  baked  bread 
and  pies,  she  said  (she  was  a  master  good 


MOSTLY    GOSSIP  93 

cook),  and  the  beans  was  in  the  oven,  and 
that  was  all  there  was  to  it,  from  his  truly 
Drusilly  Butters. 

"  Wai,  Uncle  Ithe  studied  over  it  a  spell, 
and  then  he  sot  down  and  he  wrote  a  note, 
and  this  was  the  way  it  read: 

"  '  Whereas  my  wife  Drusilly  has  left  my 
bed  and  board  while  I  was  down  to  Tupham 
diggin'  clams,  and  whereas  I  never  give  her 
reason  good  for  so  doin',  resolved  that  all 
persons  is  warned  to  pay  no  bills  of  her  con- 
tractin'  from  now  on ;  but  the  cars  will  run 
just  the  same.' 

"  Signed  his  name  out  in  full,  and  sent 
it  to  the  paper.  I  got  it  now  to  home,  in 
Gra'm'ther's  scrap-book.  Yes,  sir,  that  was 
Uncle  Ithe  all  over." 

"  And  what  was  the  outcome  of  it,  Seth  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Bliss. 

"  Oh,  she  come  back !  He  knew  she  would. 
She  stayed  with  her  folks  a  spell,  and  they 


94  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

reasoned  with  her;  and  then  she  saw  the 
notice  in  the  paper,  and  that  made  her  so 
mad  she  run  all  the  way  home.  Uncle  Ithe 
was  settin'  in  the  kitchen  smokin'  his  pipe, 
at  peace  with  all  mankind,  when  she  run  in, 
all  out  of  breath,  and  mad  as  hops.  '  You 
take  that  notice  out  the  paper,  Ithuriel  But 
ters  !  '  she  hollers.  '  You're  the  meanest 
actin'  man  ever  I  see  in  my  life,  and  the 
ugliest,  and  so  I've  come  to  tell  you.'  And 
then  she  couldn't  say  another  word,  she'd 
run  that  fast  and  was  that  mad. 

"  Uncle  Ithe  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  turned  round  and  give  her  a 
look,  and  then  put  it  back. 

"  '  How  do,  Drusilly  ? '  he  says.  '  I  was 
lookin'  for  you,'  he  says.  '  I'm  on  the  last 
pie  now.'  And  that  was  every  word  he  said 
about  it,  or  she,  either." 


CHAPTEK    V. 

IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP 

THE  Reverend  John  Bliss  walked  home 
ward,  revolving  many  things.  Seth's  stories, 
the  vexed  question  of  prayer-meetings,  the 
Second  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  from  which 
his  text  was  taken,  Mrs.  Tree's  will,  and 
the  New  England  character  (Mr.  Bliss  was 
a  Minnesota  man)  made  an  intricate  net 
work  of  thought  which  so  absorbed  his  mind 
that  his  feet  carried  him  whithersoever  they 
would. 

"  A  tangled  skein !  "  he  said  aloud,  shak 
ing  his  head ;  "  a  tangled  skein !  "  and  then 
he  stopped  abruptly,  looked  about  him,  and 
began  to  retrace  his  steps  hurriedly.  He 
had  forgotten  the  pink  worsted. 
95 


96  MRS.    TREE^S    WILL 

The  little  minister  entered  Miss  Penny 
Pardon's  shop  with  an  air  of  nervous  apol 
ogy,  and  an  inward  shiver.  He  hated 
women's  shops ;  he  was  always  afraid  of 
seeing  crinoline,  or  hair-curlers,  or  some 
other  reprehensibly  feminine  article. 

"  Why  will  they  ?  "  he  murmured  to  him 
self,  as  even  now  his  unwilling  eye  lighted 
on  a  "  Fluffy  Fedora."  "  Why  will  —  oh, 
good  morning,  Miss  Pardon;  a  beautiful 
morning  after  the  rain." 

"  Good  mornin',  Mr.  Bliss !  "  said  Miss 
Penny,  with  a  beaming  smile.  "  You're 
quite  a  stranger,  ain't  you  ?  Yes,  sir,  'tis 
elegant  weather;  and  the  rain,  too,  so  sea 
sonable  yesterday.  I  think  weather  most 
always  is  seasonable  right  along;  far  as  I've 
noticed,  that  is.  Pleasant  to  see  spring 
comin',  isn't  it,  Mr.  Bliss?  Not  but  what 
I've  enjoyed  the  winter,  too,  real  well.  I 
think  the  snow's  real  pretty,  specially  in 


97 

winter.  That's  right;  yes,  sir,  we  should 
be  thankful  for  all.  Was  there  anything  I 
could  do  for  you  to-day,  Mr.  Bliss  ? " 

"  Yes !  yes,  Miss  Pardon,"  said  Mr.  Bliss, 
nervously.  "I  —  that  is  —  Mrs.  Bliss  de 
sired  some  pink  —  pink  —  worsted,  I  think 
it  was.  Yes,  I  am  quite  positive  it  was  pink 
worsted.  Have  you  the  article  ?  " 

He  looked  relieved,  and  met  Miss  Penny's 
eye  almost  hardily. 

"  Worsted,  sir  ?  Yes,  indeed,  we  keep  it. 
What  kind  did  she  wish,  Mr.  Bliss  ?  Single 
zephyr,  do  you  think  it  was,  or  German- 
town  ?  " 

Miss  Penny's  tone  was  warmly  sympa 
thetic;  she  always  felt  for  gentlemen  who 
came  on  such  errands. 

"  They  feel  like  a  fish  on  a  sidewalk,"  she 
would  say ;  "  real  homesick  !  " 

Mr.  Bliss  pondered.  "I  —  I  think  it  was 
a  German  town,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  I  am 


98  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

almost  positive  it  was  a  German  town,  —  or 
province ;  the  exact  name  escapes  me.  Han 
over,  perhaps  ?  Nassau  ?  Saxe-Coburg  ?  I 
incline  to  think  it  was  Saxe-Coburg,  Miss 
Pardon.  Have  you  the  article  ?  " 

It  was  Miss  Penny's  turn  to  look  puz 
zled.  "  We  don't  keep  that,  sir,"  she  said. 
"  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  heard  of  it.  All 
we  keep  is  Germantown  and  Saxony, 
and  —  " 

"  That  is  it !  "  cried  the  little  minister. 
"  Saxony !  to  be  sure !  Saxony,  of  course. 
And  —  yes,  I  have  a  sample  —  some 
where  !  " 

He  felt  in  his  pockets,  and  produced  a 
parish  circular,  a  calendar,  a  note-book,  a 
fishing-line,  and  finally  the  envelope  contain 
ing  the  sample. 

Miss  Penny  beamed  at  sight  of  it.  "  Yes, 
sir,  we  have  it,"  she  announced,  joyfully. 


IN  MISS   PENNY'S  SHOP  99 

"  Mis'  Bliss  got  it  here  only  last  week.  How 
much  did  she  say,  Mr.  Bliss  ?  " 

"  Two  pounds,"  said  Mr.  Bliss,  promptly 
and  decidedly. 

"  Two  —  Miss  Penny  looked  aghast. 
"  Why,  we  don't  generally  —  I  doubt  if  we 
have  that  much  in  the  store,  Mr.  Bliss.  Was 
she  goin'  to  make  a  slumber  robe  ? " 

"  It  was  —  I  think  —  for  an  infant's 
jacket,"  Mr.  Bliss  hazarded,  looking  side 
long  at  the  door.  These  things  were  hard 
to  bear;  harder  than  Marietta  knew;  yet 
how  gladly  should  he  do  it  for  her,  on  that 
very  account.  He  turned  an  appealing 
glance  on  Miss  Penny.  "  An  infant's  jacket 
would  not,  yon  think,  require  two  pounds  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  A  jacket  for  your  little  Beauty  Darlin', 
to  be  sure!  She  bought  a  pattern,  too,  I 
remember,  a  shell  border,  and  then  —  don't 
you  believe  p'r'aps  it  was  skeins  she  said, 


100  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Mr.  Bliss,  instead  of  pounds  ?  I  presume 
most  likely  it  was."  Her  voice  was  tender 
now,  as  if  addressing  a  little  child. 

"  You  are  probably  right,  Miss  Penelope," 
said  the  minister,  dejectedly.  "  I  seem  to 
have  singularly  little  faculty  for  these  mat 
ters.  Two  skeins  —  ah,  yes !  I  perceive  it 
is  so  written  here  on  the  envelope.  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Miss  Penelope !  " 

"  You've  no  need  to,  Mr.  Bliss,  not  a 
mite !  "  cried  Miss  Penny.  "  We  all  make 
mistakes,  and,  if  you  never  done  anything 
worse  than  this,  you'd  be  sure  of  the  King 
dom.  Not  but  what  you  are  anyways,  I  ex 
pect.  Gentlemen  don't  have  any  call  to  know 
about  fancy  work  as  a  rule,  especially  a 
pastor,  whose  mind  on  higher  things  is  set; 
you  remember  the  hymn.  There  is  those, 
though,  that  finds  comfort  in  it,  same  as  a 
woman  doos.  I  knew  a  gentleman  once  who 
used  to  come  and  get  his  worsted  of  me  just 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S   SHOP  101 

as  regular !  He  crocheted  for  his  nerves ; 
helped  him  to  sleep,  so  he  thought,  and  it 
is  real  soothin',  but  he's  dead  and  buried 
now.  I  often  think,  times  when  I  hear  of  a 
man  bein'  nervous  and  crotchety  about  the 
house,  there !  I  think,  if  he'd  only  set  down 
and  crochet  a  spell,  or  knit,  one  of  the  two, 
what  a  comfort  it  would  be  to  him  and  his 
folks.  We're  made  as  we  are,  though ;  that's 
right.  Was  there  anything  more,  Mr.  Bliss  ? 
Twenty  cents ;  thank  you,  sir.  Real  pleased 
you  came  in;  call  again,  won't  you?  Good 
morning !  " 

Miss  Penny  looked  anxiously  after  the 
minister  as  he  walked  away.  "  I  do  hope 
he'll  get  that  home  safe !  "  she  said.  "  I 
set  out  to  ask  him  if  he  didn't  think  he'd 
better  put  it  in  his  pocket,  but  I  was  afraid 
he  might  think  me  forth-puttin'.  Like  as 
not  he'll  forget  every  single  thing  about  it, 
and  drop  it  right  in  the  street.  There !  I 


102  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

don't  see  why  men-folks  is  so  forgetful,  do 
you,  Sister  ?  Not  that  they  are  all  alike,  of 
course." 

"  Some  ways  they  are,"  said  Miss  Pru 
dence. 

Miss  Prudence  was  invisible,  but  the  door 
between  the  shop  and  her  sanctum  was  al 
ways  ajar,  for  she  liked  to  hear  what  was 
going  on. 

"  I  never  see  the  man  yet  that  I'd  trust 
to  carry  a  parcel  home;  not  a  small  par 
cel,  that  is.  If  it's  a  whole  dress,  he'll 
take  it  all  right,  if  he  takes  it  at  all;  but 
give  him  a  small  parcel  that  wants  to  be  car 
ried  careful,  and  he'll  drop  it,  or  else  scrunch 
it  up  in  his  pocket  and  forget  it.  I've  got 
to  run  up  these  brea'ths  now;  Miss  Wax 
is  comin'  at  eleven  to  try  on." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
cheerful  whir  of  the  sewing-machine,  and 
the  still  more  cheerful  voice  of  Miss  Penny 


IN  MISS  PENNY1 8  SHOP  103 

cooing  to  her  birds.  She  hopped  from  one 
cage  to  another,  feeding,  stroking,  caress 
ing. 

"  You're  lookin'  dumpy  to-day,  darlin'," 
she  said,  addressing  a  rather  battered-look 
ing  mino  bird.  "  There !  the  fact  is,  you 
ain't  so  young  as  once  you  was.  You're 
like  the  rest  of  us,  only  you  don't  know  it, 
and  we  do  —  some  of  us !  Here's  a  nice 
bit  of  egg  for  you,  Beauty ;  that'll  shine  you 
up  some,  though  I  do  expect  you've  seen  your 
best  days.  Luella  Slocum  told  me  she  ex 
pected  me  to  make  this  bird  over  as  good 
as  new,  Sister.  I  told  her  I  guessed  what 
ailed  him  was  the  same  as  did  the  rest  of 
us.  Stop  the  clock  tickin',  I  told  her,  and 
she'd  stop  his  trouble  and  hers  as  well.  She 
was  none  too  well  pleased.  She'd  just  got 
her  a  new  front  from  Miss  Wax,  and  not 
a  scrap  of  gray  in  it.  She'd  ought  to  sing 
'  Backward,  turn  backward,'  if  anybody 


104  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

ought.  There !  "  The  exclamation  had  a 
note  of  dismay  in  it. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Miss  Pru 
dence;  the  machine  had  stopped,  and  her 
mouth  was  apparently  full  of  pins. 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  to  ask  Mr.  Bliss 
how  Mr.  Homer  was,  and  he  just  the  one 
to  tell  us.  Now  did  you  ever!  Fact  is, 
when  he  come  in,  I  hadn't  got  my  face 
straight  after  that  woman  askin'  for  mes 
merized  petticoats.  I  was  shakin'  still  when 
I  see  Mr.  Bliss  comin',  and  my  wits  flew 
every  which  way  like  a  scairt  hen.  But 
speakin'  of  petticoats  reminds  me,  Tommy 
Candy  was  in  this  mornin'  while  you  was 
to  market,  and  he  said  Mr.  Homer  was  re'l 
slim.  '  Pestered  with  petticoats '  was  what 
he  said,  and  I  said,  l  What  do  you  mean, 
Tommy  Candy  ? '  and  he  said,  '  Just  what 
I  say,  Miss  Penny,'  he  said.  1 1  guess  you 
and  Miss  Prudence  are  the  only  single  or 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  105 

widder  women  in  Quahaug  that  ain't  settin' 
their  caps  for  Mr.  Homer,'  he  said.  And 
I  said,  '  Tommy  Candy,  that's  no  way  for 
you  to  talk,  if  you  have  had  money  left 
you !  '  I  said.  He  said  he  knew  it  wasn't, 
but  yet  he  couldn't  help  it,  and  you  and 
I  had  always  ben  good  to  him  sence  his 
mother  died.  He  has  a  good  heart,  Tommy 
has,  only  he  doos  speak  up  so  queer,  and  love 
mischief.  But  he  says  it's  a  fact,  they  do 
pester  Mr.  Homer,  Sister.  There !  it  made 
me  feel  fairly  ashamed.  l  Don't  tell  me 
Miss  Bethia  Wax  is  one  of  'em,'  I  said,  '  be 
cause  I  shouldn't  believe  you  if  you  did,' 
I  said.  '  Well,  I  won't,'  he  said,  '  for  she 
ain't ;  she's  a  lady.'  But  some,  he  said,  was 
awful,  and  he  means  to  stand  between ;  he 
don't  intend  Mr.  Homer  should  marry  any 
body  except  he  wants  to,  and  it's  the  right 
one.  Seemed  to  have  re'l  good  ideas,  and 
he  thinks  the  world  of  Mr.  Homer.  I  like 


106  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Tommy;  he  has  a  re'l  pleasant  way  with 
him." 

"  You'd  make  cream  cheese  out  of  'most 
any  skim-milk,  Sister,"  said  Miss  Prudence, 
kindly.  "  Not  but  what  Tommy  has  im 
proved  a  vast  deal  to  what  he  was.  It's  his 
lameness,  I  expect." 

"  That's  right !  "  cried  little  Miss  Penny, 
the  tears  starting  to  her  round  brown  eyes. 
"  That's  it,  Sister,  and  that's  what  turns 
my  heart  to  the  boy,  I  expect.  So  young, 
and  to  be  lame  for  life;  it  is  pitiful." 

"  He  did  what  he  had  a  mind  to  do,"  said 
Miss  Prudence,  grimly.  "  He  had  no  call 
to  climb  that  steeple,  as  I  know  of." 

"  Oh,  Sister,  there's  so  many  that  has  no 
call  to  do  as  they  do,  and  yet  many  times 
they  don't  seem  to  get  their  come-uppance, 
far  as  we  can  see ;  I  expect  they  do,  though, 
come  to  take  it  in  the  yard  or  the  piece. 
But,  howsoever,  Mis'  Tree  has  done  hand- 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  107 

some  by  Tommy,  and  he  has  a  grateful  heart, 
and  means  to  do  his  part  by  Mr.  Homer 
and  the  Museum,  I  feel  sure  of  that.  Sis 
ter,  do  you  suppose  Pindar  Hollopeter  is 
alive  ?  Seem's  though  if  he  was,  he'd  come 
home  now,  at  least  for  a  spell:  Homer  in 
affliction,  as  you  may  say,  and  left  with 
means  and  all.  How  long  is  it  since  he 
went  away  ?  " 

"  Thirty  years,"  said  Miss  Prudence.  "  I 
always  thought  it  was  a  good  riddance  to 
bad  rubbidge  when  Pindar  went  away." 

"  Why,  Sister,  he  was  an  elegant  man, 
nighty,  but  re'l  elegant;  at  least,  so  he  ap 
peared  to  me;  I  was  a  child  then.  Why 
did  he  go,  Sister?  I  never  rightly  under 
stood  about  it." 

"  He  went  from  flightiness,"  said  Miss 
Prudence.  "  Him  and  Homer  was  both  crazy 
about  Mary  Ashton,  and  Pindar  asked  her 
to  have  him.  She'd  as  soon  have  had  the 


108  MKS.    TREE'S    WILL 

meetin'-house  weathercock,  and  when  she 
told  him  so,  —  I  don't  mean  them  words ; 
Mary  would  have  spoke  pleasant  to  the 
Father  of  Evil." 

"  Why,  Sister !  " 

"  Well,  she  would.  Anyhow,  when  she 
said  no,  he  made  sure  she  was  going  to  have 
Homer,  and  off  he  went,  and  never  come 
back.  So  that's  his  story." 

"  I  want  to  know !  "  said  Miss  Penny. 
"  But  she  never  —  " 

"  She  never  cast  a  look  at  ary  one  of 
'em.  She  give  her  heart  to  George  Jaquith 
to  break,  and  he  done  it ;  and  now  he's  dead, 
and  so  is  she.  But  Homer  is  alive,  and  so  is 
Pindar,  for  all  I  know.  He  never  liked  here 
as  Homer  did;  he  always  wanted  to  get 
away,  from  a  boy.  Old  Mis'  Hollopeter 
run  a  great  resk,  I  always  thought,  the  way 
she  brought  up  those  two  boys,  fillin'  their 
heads  with  poetry  and  truck.  If  she  had 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  109 

learned  'em  a  good  trade,  now,  it  would  be 
bread  in  their  mouths  this  day;  not  that 
Homer  is  ever  likely  to  want  now.  I  wish't 
he'd  marry  Bethia  Wax." 

"  I  don't  know,  Sister  Prudence,"  said 
Miss  Penny,  who  was  romantic.  "  Some  is 
cut  out  for  a  single  life,  and  I  think's  it's 
real  pretty  to  see  a  man  faithful  to  the  ch'ice 
of  his  youth." 

"  Ch'ice  of  his  grandmother !  "  retorted 
Miss  Prudence,  sharply.  "  Don't  talk  fool 
ishness,  Penny !  A  woman  can  get  along 
single,  and  oftentimes  do  better,  and  it's 
meant  some  of  'em  should,  or  there  wouldn't 
be  so  many  extry ;  but  leave  a  man  alone  all 
his  life,  and  either  he  dries  up  or  else  he 
sploshes  out,  and  either  way  he  don't  amount 
to  what  he  should.  They  ain't  got  enough 
to  'em,  someways.  There !  this  is  ready  to 
try  on,  and  Miss  Wax  ain't  here.  She  said 
she'd  be  here  bv  eleven." 


110  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  I  see  her  comin'  now,"  cried  Miss 
Penny.  "  It's  just  on  the  stroke ;  she's 
'most  always  punctual.  She  has  a  re'l  grace 
ful,  pretty  walk.  I  think  Miss  Wax  is  a 
fine-lookin'  woman,  though  a  little  mite  more 
flesh  would  set  good  on  her." 

"  Her  clo'es  would  set  better  on  her  if 
she  ha,d  it,"  said  Miss  Prudence.  "  I  know 
that.  I  don't  know  but  I'd  sooner  fit  a  bol 
ster  than  a  bean-pole." 

"  Hush,  Sister,  for  pity's  sake !  Good 
mornin',  Miss  Wax.  You're  right  on  the 
dot,  ain't  you  ?  I  was  just  sayin'  to  Sister 
how  punctual  you  always  was.  Yes'm, 
we're  smart;  the  same  old  story,  peace  and 
poverty.  You  can  go  right  in,  Miss  Wax; 
Sister's  expectin'  you." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    SORROWS    OF    ME.    HOMER 

"  MORNING,  Direxia,"  said  Will  Jaquith. 
"  How  is  Mr.  Homer  this  morning  ?  Better, 
I  hope,  than  he  was  feeling  yesterday." 

Direxia  Hawkes  laid  down  her  duster, 
and  turned  a  troubled  face  to  the  visitor. 
"  There !  "  she  said,  "  I'm  glad  you've  come, 
Willy.  I  can't  do  nothin'  with  that  man. 
He  ain't  eat  a  thing  this  day,  only  just  a 
mossel  of  toast  and  a  sosser  of  hominy.  It's 
foolishness,  I  will  say.  Mis'  Tree  may  have 
had  her  ways,  —  I  expect  we  all  do,  if  all 
was  known,  —  but  I  will  say  she  eat  her 
victuals  and  relished  'em.  I  don't  see  why 
or  wherfore  I  was  left  if  there  ain't  any- 
Ill 


112  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

body  ever  going  to  eat  anythin'  in  this  house 
again;  there!  I  don't." 

"  Oh,  Dexy,  don't  be  foolish!  "  said  Will. 
"  I'm  coining  out  this  minute  to  get  a 
doughnut.  You  will  have  to  live  till  my 
wife  learns  to  make  as  good  ones  as  yours, 
and  that  will  be  some  time.  Just  wait  till 
I  see  Mr.  Homer  a  minute,  and  then  I'll 
come  out  and  make  love  to  you,  you  dear  old 
thing." 

Direxia  brightened.  "  Don't  she  make  'em 
good  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Well,  she's  young  yet. 
I  dono  as  I  had  just  the  hang  of  'em  when 
I  was  her  age.  Doughnuts  is  a  thing  you've 
got  to  have  the  hang  of,  I've  always  said." 

She  retired,  beaming,  to  heap  goodies  on 
fine  china  dishes  for  her  darling,  and  Ja- 
quith  turned  his  steps  toward  "  the  Cap 
tain's  room."  This  was  a  small  room  look 
ing  out  over  the  harbor,  and  had  been 
Captain  Tree's  special  sanctum.  It  was 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MB.   HOMER       113 

fitted  like  a  ship's  cabin,  with  lockers  and 
swinging  shelves,  all  in  teak-wood  and  brass. 
On  the  walls  were  ranged  telescopes,  spy 
glasses,  and  speaking-trumpets  of  all  sizes 
and  varieties,  and  over  the  desk  hung  a  pic 
ture  of  the  good  ship  Marcia  D.  of  Quahaug, 
Ethan  Tree,  master.  This  picture  was  a 
triumph  of  Japanese  embroidery,  having 
been  done  in  colored  silks  while  the  ship 
lay  in  the  harbor  of  Nagasaki,  and,  next 
to  his  wife's  miniature,  it  was  the  Captain's 
most  precious  possession.  The  year  after 
it  was  made,  the  Marcia  D.  had  gone  down 
in  a  typhoon  in  the  South  Seas:  all  hands 
were  saved,  to  be  tossed  about  for  three  days 
on  a  life-raft,  and  then  tossed  ashore  on  a 
wild  island.  The  bright  shells  which 
framed  the  picture  had  been  picked  up  by 
his  wife  on  the  shore,  where  she  watched 
all  day  for  a  coming  sail,  while  master  and 
mariners  caught  fish  and  turtles,  and  gathered 


114  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

strange  fruits  for  her,  their  lady  and  their 
queen.  Ethan  Tree  used  to  say  that  that  week 
on  the  island  was  one  of  the  best  in  his  life, 
even  though  he  had  lost  his  ship. 

"  True  blue !  "  he  would  murmur,  looking 
up  at  the  picture.  "  She  showed  her  colors 
that  time.  She  never  flinched,  little  Marcia. 
Her  baby  coming,  and  not  a  woman  or  a 
doctor  within  a  thousand  miles;  but  she 
never  flinched.  Only  her  cheeks  flew  the 
flag  and  her  eyes  signalled,  when  I  sung 
out,  '  Sail  ho ! '  True  blue,  little  wife !  " 

Now,  instead  of  the  stalwart  figure  of 
Captain  Tree,  the  slender  form  of  Mr. 
Homer  Hollopeter  occupied,  but  did  not  fill, 
the  chair  beneath  the  picture.  The  little 
gentleman  sat  huddled  disconsolately  over 
some  papers,  and  it  was  a  melancholy  face 
that  he  lifted  in  response  to  Will  Jaquith's 
cheery  "  How  are  you,  Mr.  Homer  ?  pretty 
well  this  morning  ?  " 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.  HOMER       115 

Mr.  Homer  sighed.  "  I  thank  you,  Will 
iam,  I  thank  you !  "  he  said.  "  My  corporal 
envelope  is,  I  am  obliged  to  you,  robust; 

—  a  —  vigorous ;  —  a  —  exempt  for  the  mo 
ment  from  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to  — 
Shakespeare;     we    perceive    that    even    our 
greatest   did  not   disdain  upon   occasion   to 
conclude  a  phrase  with  a  preposition,  though 
the  practice  is  one  generally  reprehended; 

—  a  —  condemned ;  —  a  —  denied  the  sanc 
tion  of  the  critics  of  our  own  day.     I  trust 
you    find '  yourself    in    health    and    spirits, 
William  ?  " 

"  Capital !  "  said  Will.  "  Lily  and  I  and 
the  boy,  all  as  well  as  can  be.  I  have  brought 
the  mail,  Mr.  Homer.  I  thought  you  might 
not  feel  like  coming  down  this  morning,  as 
you  were  not  well  yesterday." 

As  he  spoke,  he  laid  the  mail-bag  on  the 
table,  and,  seating  himself,  proceeded  to  un 
lock  it.  Mr.  Homer's  eyes  brightened  in 


116  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

spite  of  himself;  his  face  grew  animated. 
"  That  was  kind  of  you,  William !  "  he  said. 
"  That  was  —  a  —  considerate ;  that  was  — 
a  —  benevolent.  I  am  greatly  obliged  to 
you ;  greatly  obliged  to  you." 

He  opened  the  bag  with  trembling  fingers, 
and  began  to  sort  the  letters  it  contained. 

"  The  occupation  of  twenty  years,"  he 
continued,  plaintively,  "  is  not  to  be  relin 
quished  lightly.  If  I  did  not  feel  that  I 
was  leaving  it  in  worthy  hands,  I  —  ah ! 
here  is  a  letter  for  Susan  Jennings,  from 
her  son.  There  is  an  enclosure,  William. 
Probably  Jacob  is  doing  better,  and  is  send 
ing  his  mother  a  little  money.  She  is  a 
worthy  woman,  a  worthy  woman ;  I  rejoice 
for  Susan.  A  dutiful  son,  sir,  is  an  oasis 
in  the  desert ;  a  —  fountain  in  a  sandy  place ; 
a  —  a  number  of  gratifying  things  which 
I  cannot  at  this  moment  name.  You  were 
a  dutiful  son,  William.  That  must  be  an 


THE   SORROWS    OF  MR.   HOMER      117 

unspeakable  satisfaction  to  you,  now  that 
your  sainted  mother  has  —  a  —  departed ; 
has  —  a  —  gone  from  us ;  has  —  a  —  as 
cended  on  wings  of  light  to  the  empyrean. 
You  were  a  dutiful  son,  sir." 

William  Jaquith  colored  high.  "  Not  al 
ways,  Mr.  Homer,"  he  said.  "  In  thinking 
of  these  late  happy  years,  you  must  not  for 
get  the  others  that  went  before.  I  should 
be  dead,  or  a  castaway,  this  day,  but  for 
Mrs.  Tree." 

"  I  rejoice  at  it,  my  dear  sir !  "  cried  Mr. 
Homer,  his  gentle  eyes  kindling.  "  That 
is  to  say  —  I  would  not  wish  to  be  under 
stood  as  —  but  I  am  sure  you  apprehend 
me,  William.  I  would  say  that  my  respect, 
my  —  a  —  reverence,  my  —  a  —  affection 
and  admiration  for  my  cousin  Marcia,  sir, 
are  enhanced  a  hundredfold  by  the  knowl 
edge  of  what  she  did  for  you.  It  cheers 
me,  sir ;  it  —  a  —  invigorates  me ;  it  —  a 


118  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

—  causes  a  bud  of  spring  to  blow  in  a  bosom 
which  —  a  —  was  sealed,  as  I  may  say,  with 
ice    of  —  a  —  in    short,     with    ice :  —  a  — 
what  is  that  pink  envelope,  William  ?  " 

"  For  Joe  Breck,  sir ;   from  S.  E.  Willow, 
South  Verona.     That  is  Sophy,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Mr.  Homer  quivered  with  pleasure  as  he 
took  the  long,  slim  note  in  his  hand.  "  This 
is  from  Sophia !  "  he  said.  "  Sophia  Willow 
is  a  sweet  creature,  William ;  —  a  —  dewy 
flower,  as  the  lamented  Keats  has  it ;  a  — 
milk-white  lamb  that  bleats  for  man's  pro 
tection,  as  he  also  observes.  And  Joseph 
Breck,  sir,  is  a  worthy  youth.  He  has 
*  sighed  and  looked  and  sighed  again  '  (Dry- 
den,  sir !  a  great  poet,  though  unduly  influ 
enced  by  the  age  in  which  he  lived)  these 
two  years  past,  I  have  had  reason  to  think. 
Of  late  his  letters  to  Sophia  have  been  more 
frequent;  there  \vas  one  only  yesterday,  if 
you  remember,  a  bulky  one,  probably  con- 


THE  SORROWS    OF  MR.    HOMER      119 

taining  —  a  —  remarks  of  a  tender  nature ; 
—  a  —  outpourings  of  an  ardent  description. 
This  is  the  response.  Its  rosy  hue  leads  me 
to  hope  that  it  is  a  favorable  one,  William. 
The  shape,  too :  a  square  envelope  has  always 
something  of  self-assertion  about  it ;  but  this 
long,  slender,  graceful  note  has  in  its 
very  appearance  something  —  a  —  yielding ; 
something  —  a  —  acquiescent ;  something  — 
a  —  indicative  of  the  budding  of  the  tender 
passion.  I  augur  happily  from  the  aspect  of 
this  note.  A  —  I  trust  your  sentiments  ac 
cord  with  mine,  William  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir,"  said  Will,  heartily. 
"  I  am  sure  Sophy  would  not  have  the  heart 
to  say  '  no '  on  such  pretty  paper  as  this ; 
not  that  I  think  she  ever  meant  to.  But  here 
is  a  letter  for  you,  Mr.  Homer,  and  this  is 
a  long  envelope,  too,  only  it  is  green  instead 
of  pink.  Postmark  Bexley." 

Mr.  Homer  started.     "  Not  Bexley,  Will- 


120  UBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

iam !  "  he  said,  nervously.  "  I  trust  you  are 
mistaken ;  look  again,  if  you  will  be  so  good. 
I  cannot  conceive  why  I  should  receive  a 
letter  from  Bexley." 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  replied  Will,  "  but  Bex- 
ley  it  is.  Would  you  like  me  to  open  it, 
Mr.  Homer?" 

Mr.  Homer  cast  a  glance  of  aversion  at 
the  green  envelope;  it  certainly  was  some 
what  vivid  in  tint,  and  was  rather  liberally 
than  delicately  scented. 

"  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  do  so, 
William,"  he  said.  "  I  seem  to  feel  —  a  — 
less  vigorous  than  when  you  first  came  in. 
I  should  be  obliged  if  you  would  look  it 
over,  William." 

With  a  glance  wherein  compassion  strug 
gled  with  amusement,  Jaquith  opened  the 
letter  and  glanced  through  it. 

"  From  Mrs.  Pryor,"  he  said,  briefly. 

Mr.   Homer  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat. 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.    HOMER      121 

"I  —  a  —  apprehended  as  much,"  he  said. 
"Go  on,  William." 

With  another  compassionate  twinkle,  Will 
complied,  and  read  as  follows: 

"  (  MY    DEAREST    HOMEE  J  ' 

Mr.  Homer  winced,  and  wiped  his  fore 
head  nervously. 

" '  Ever  since  that  dreadful  day  which 
I  will  not  name,  I  have  been  prostrated  with 
grief  and  mortification ;  grief  on  my  own 
account ;  mortification  —  I  blush  to  say  it 
—  for  the  sake  of  one  whose  present  condi 
tion  seals  my  lips.  Need  I  say  that  I  allude 
to  Aunt  Marcia  ?  For  some  time  I  felt  that 
all  relations  between  me  and  Elmerton  must 
be  closed  forever/  ' 

Mr.  Homer  looked  up. 

"  '  But  in  the  end  a  more  Christian  spirit 
prevailed.'  ' 

Mr.  Homer  looked  down  again. 


122  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  (  I  have  conquered  my  pride ;  you  can 
imagine  what  a  struggle  it  was,  for  you  know 
what  the  Darracott  pride  is,  though  the  Hol- 
lopeters  only  intermarried  with  us  in  your 
grandfather's  time.  I  came  out  of  the  strug 
gle  a  physical  wreck/  ' 

Mr.  Homer  looked  up  once  more. 

"  '  But  with  ine,  as  all  who  know  me  are 
aware,  flesh  is  nothing,  spirit  is  all!  I  have 
resolved  to  let  bygones  be  bygones,  Homer; 
to  put  all  this  sad  and  shocking  business 
behind  me,  and  strive  to  forget  that  it  ever 
existed.  In  this  spirit,  my  dear  cousin, 
I  write  to  offer  you  the  affection  of  a,  sis 
ter/  " 

Mr.  Homer  uttered  a  hollow  groan,  and 
dropped  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"  '  We  are  both  alone,  Homer.  My  girls 
are  married ;  and,  though  the  greater  por 
tion  of  my  heart  is  in  the  grave  with  Mr. 
Pryor,  enough  of  it  yet  breathes  to  keep 


THE   SORROWS   OF  ME.   HOMER       123 

a  warm  corner  for  you,  my  nearest  living 
relative.  The  extraordinary  and  iniqui 
tous  document,  which  I  will  not  further 
describe,  has  laid  a  heavy  burden  on  your 
shoulders;  and  I  feel  it  a  duty  to  give  you 
all  the  aid  in  my  power  in  the  work  of  ar 
ranging  and  classifying  the  collection  of 
Worldly  trifles  by  which  our  late  unhappy 
relative  set  such  store.  I,  Homer,  have  out 
grown  such  matters.  It  is  for  Aunt  Mar- 
cia's  own  sake  that  I  feel,  as  you  must,  the 
necessity  of  something  like  an  equitable  ar 
rangement  in  regard  to  all  this  trumpery. 
My  duty  to  my  children  obliges  me,  much 
against  my  will,  to  protest  against  Vesta 
Strong's  having  all  the  lace  and  jewelry.  If 
she  had  any  sense  of  decency,  she  would  not 
accept  what  was  clearly  the  raving  of  senile 
dementia.  As  to  the  grasping  and  mercenary 
spirit  shown  by  her  and  her  husband,  I  say 
nothing:  let  their  consciences  deal  with 


124  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

them,   if  they  own  such  an  article;    I  ana 
above  it. 

"  '  Let  me  know,  dearest  Homer,  when  you 
are  ready  for  me,  and  I  will  come  to  you  on 
the  instant.  I  will  bring  an  excellent  maid 
servant  to  replace  the  old  creature,  whom  I 
trust  you  have  dismissed  ere  this.  If  not, 
let  me  urge  you  strongly  to  get  rid  of  her 
at  once.  She  is  not  a  fit  person  to  have 
charge  of  you.  I  feel  that  the  sooner  I 
come  to  you  the  better;  let  us  lose  no  time, 
so  pray  write  at  once,  dear  Homer,  to 

"  '  Your  loving  cousin, 
"  t  MARIA  DARRACOTT  PRYOR.'  ' 

Will's  eyes  were  twinkling  as  he  folded 
up  the  letter,  but  they  were  very  tender  as 
he  turned  them  on  Mr.  Homer,  sitting  crum 
pled  like  a  withered  leaf  in  his  chair. 

"  Cheer  up,  Mr.  Homer !  "  said  the  young 
postmaster.  "  Look  up,  my  dear  friend. 


THE   SORROWS   OF  ME.   HOMER       125 

You  don't  suppose  we  are  going  to  let  her 
come,  do  you  ?  She  shall  not  put  her  foot 
inside  the  door,  I  promise  you." 

Mr.  Homer  groaned  again.  "  She  will 
come,  William!"  he  said.  "I  feel  it;  I 
know  it.  She  will  come,  and  she  will  stay. 
I  have  not  strength  to  resist  her.  Oh,  Cousin 
Marcia,  Cousin  Marcia,  you  little  thought 
what  you  were  doing  when  you  laid  this 
burden  on  me.  I  don't  think  I  can  bear  it, 
William  !  I  will  go  away ;  I  will  leave  the 
village.  I  do  —  not  —  think  —  I  can  bear 
it!" 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  can,  sir,"  said  Will 
Jaquith.  "  Consider  the  wishes  of  our  dear 
old  friend.  Think  how  hard  it  would  be 
for  us  all  to  see  strangers  in  this  house,  so 
full  of  memories  of  her.  I  hope  that  after 
awhile  you  can  grow  to  feel  at  home,  and  to 
be  happy  here.  Then,  too,  the  work  will  be 
of  a  kind  that  will  interest  you.  The  ar- 


126  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

rangement  of  all  these  rare  and  curious 
objects,  the  formation  of  a  museum,  —  why, 
Mr.  Homer,  you  are  made  for  the  work,  and 
the  work  for  you.  Cheer  up,  my  good 
friend !  " 

Mr.  Homer  sighed  heavily.  "  I  thank 
you,  William,"  he  said.  "  I  thank  you. 
You  are  always  sympathetic  and  comfort 
ing  to  me.  Your  words  are  —  are  as  balm ; 
as  —  as  dew  upon  Hermon ;  as  —  oil  which 
runs  down  —  The  poor  gentleman  broke 
off,  and  looked  piteously  at  his  companion. 
"  My  metaphor  misleads  me,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  often  the  case  at  the  present  time.  I  — 
I  am  apprehensive  that  my  mind  is  not  what 
it  was;  that  I  am  in  danger  of  loss  of  the 
intellect ;  of  the  —  a  —  power  of  thought ; 
of  the  —  a  —  chair,  where  Reason  sits  —  or 
in  happier  days  did  sit  —  enthroned.  I  am 
a  wreck,  William,  a  wreck." 

He  sighed  again,  hesitated,  and  went  on. 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.   HOMER      127 

"  All  you  say  is  true,  my  friend,  and  I  could, 
I  think,  find  much  interest  and  even  inspira 
tion  in  the  task  entrusted  to  me  by  my  ven 
erated  and  deplored  relative,  if  —  I  could 
do  it  in  my  own  way :  but  —  I  am  ham 
pered,  sir.  I  am  —  trammelled ;  I  am  —  a 
—  set  upon  behind  and  before.  The  ladies 

—  a,  —  in  short  —     Hark !    what  is  that  ?  " 
He  started  nervously  as  a  knock  was  heard 

at  the  front  door,  and  clutched  Will  Ja- 
quith's  coat  with  a  feverish  grasp.  "  Don't 
leave  me,  William !  "  he  cried.  "  On  no 
account  leave  me !  It  is  a  woman.  I  —  I 

—  cannot  be  left  alone  with  them.     They 
come    about    me  —  like    locusts,     William ! 
Listen !  " 

A  wheezy,  unctuous  voice  was  heard: 
"  Mr.    Hollopeter   feelin'    any   better    to 
day?" 

"  No,   he  ain't,"   came  the  reply  in  Di- 
rexia's  crisp  accents. 


128  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  I'm  real  sorry.  I've  brought  him  a 
little  relish  to  eat  with  his  supper.  I  made 
it  myself,  and  it's  nourishin'  and  palatable. 
Shall  I  take  it  in  to  him  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  it,"  said  Direxia.  "  He  won't 
tetch  it,  I  can  tell  you  that." 

"  You  never  can  tell,"  said  the  voice. 
"  Sometimes  a  new  hand  will  give  victuals  a 
freshness.  Besides,  Homer  must  be  real 
lonesome.  I'm  comin'  in  to  set  with  him  a 
spell,  and  maybe  read  him  a  chapter.  I've 
ben  through  affliction  myself,  Direxia,  well 
you  know,  and  the  suffer  in'  seeks  their  like. 
You  let  me  in  now !  You  ain't  no  right  to 
keep  me  out,  Direxia  Hawkes.  This  ain't 
your  house,  and  I'll  take  no  sarce  from  you, 
so  now  I  tell  you." 

Mr.  Homer  started  from  his  seat  with  a 
wild  look,  but  Will  Jaquith  laid  a  quiet 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Sit    still,    sir!"    he    said.      "I'll    take 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.    HOMER      129 

charge  of  this  one,  and  Tommy  will  be  back 
soon.  Cheer  up,  Mr.  Homer !  " 

He  passed  out.  Mr.  Homer,  listening 
feverishly,  heard  a  few  words  spoken  in  a 
cheerful,  decided  voice ;  then  the  door  closed. 
Mr.  Homer  drew  a  long  breath,  but  started 
again  nervously  as  Direxia's  brown  head 
popped  in  at  the  door. 

"  Mis'  Weight  brung  some  stuff,"  she  said, 
briefly.  "  Looks  like  skim-milk  blue-monge 
bet  up  with  tapioky.  Want  it  ?  " 

"  No !  "  cried  Mr.  Homer,  with  something 
as  near  a  snarl  as  his  gentle  voice  could 
compass. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  take  my  head  off !  " 
said  Direxia.  "  I  didn't  make  it.  I'll  give 
it  to  the  parrot;  he's  rugged." 

She  vanished,  and  Mr.  Homer's  head 
dropped  in  his  hands  again. 

"  Like  locusts  !  "  he  murmured.  "  Like  lo 
custs  !  Oh,  Cousin  Marcia,  how  could  you  ?  " 


CHAPTEK    VII. 

CONCHOLOGY    AND    OTHER    THINGS 

THE  two  trustees  had  had  a  busy  day. 
They  had  just  begun  upon  the  collection  of 
shells  which  for  years  had  lain  packed  away 
in  boxes  in  the  attic.  There  were  thousands 
of  them,  and  now  as  they  lay  spread  out  on 
long  tables  in  the  workshop,  the  glass-covered 
room  where  the  Captain  used  to  keep  his 
tools  and  his  turning-lathe,  Mr.  Homer's 
mind  was  divided  between  admiration  of 
their  beauty,  and  dismay  at  the  clumsiness 
of  the  names  which  Tommy  Candy  read  out 
—  painfully,  with  finger  on  the  page  and 
frequent  moppings  of  an  anxious  brow,  for 

the    polysyllabic   was    still    something   of    a 
130 


CONCHOLOGY    AND   OTHER    THINGS    131 

nightmare  to  Tommy,  spite  of  his  twenty 
years  and  his  Academy  diploma. 

"  Look  at  this,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Homer, 
carefully  polishing  on  his  sleeve  a  whorl 
of  rosy  pearl.  "  Observe  this  marvel  of  na 
ture,  Thomas!  This  should  have  a  name 
of  beauty,  to  match  its  aspect ;  a  name  of  — 
a  —  poetry ;  of  —  divine  affluence.  '  Au 
rora's  Tear  '  would,  I  am  of  opinion,  fitly 
express  this  exquisite  object.  Number  742 : 
how  does  it  stand  in  the  volume,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  Spiral  Snork,"  said  Thomas. 

Mr.  Homer  sighed,  and  laid  the  shell 
down.  "  This  is  sad,  Thomas,"  he  said. 
"  This  is  —  a  —  painful ;  this  is  —  a  — 
productive  of  melancholy.  I  have  never  been 
of  the  opinion  —  though  it  is  matter  of  dis 
tress  to  disagree  in  any  opinion  with  the 
immortal  Bard  of  Avon  —  that  '  a  rose  by 
any  other  name '  —  you  are  doubtless  fa 
miliar  with  the  quotation,  Thomas.  To  my 


132  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

mind  there  is  much  in  a  name  —  much. 
'  Snork !  '  The  title  is  repellent ;  is  —  a  — 
in  a  manner  suggestive  of  swine.  Pork  — 
snort  —  snork !  the  connotation  is  impera 
tive,  I  am  of  opinion.  How,  why,  I  ask  you, 
Thomas,  should  such  a  name  be  applied  to 
this  exquisite  object  ?  " 

"  Named  for  Simeon  Snork,  mariner,  who 
first  brought  it  to  England,"  said  Tommy, 
his  finger  on  the  paragraph.  "  Rare :  value 
ten  pounds  sterling." 

The  little  gentleman  sighed  again.  "  We 
must  put  the  name  down,  Thomas,"  he  said. 
"  We  must  write  it  clearly  and  legibly ;  duty 
compels  us  so  to  do.  But  do  you  think  that 
we  should  be  violating  our  trust  if  we  sug 
gested  —  possibly  in  smaller  type  —  the  al 
ternative,  '  sometimes  known  as  Aurora's 
Tear '  ?  There  could  be  no  harm  in  that, 
I  fancy,  Thomas  ?  It  is  known  as  Aurora's 
Tear  to  me.  I  can  never  bring  myself  to 


CONCHOLOGY   AND   OTHER    THINGS   133 

think  of  this  delicate  production  of  —  na 
ture's  loom  —  as  '  Spiral  —  a  —  Snork.' 
My  spirit  rebels ;  —  a  —  revolts ;  —  a  —  " 

"  Jibs  ?  "  suggested  Tommy  Candy. 

"  I  was  about  to  say  '  rises  up  in  opposi 
tion,'  "  said  Mr.  Homer,  gently.  "  Your 
expression  is  terse,  Thomas,  but  —  a  — 
more  colloquial  than  I  altogether  —  but  it  is 
terse,  and  perhaps  expressive.  You  see 
no  objection  to  writing  the  alternative, 
Thomas  ?  " 

"  None  in  life !  "  said  Tommy.  "  Have 
ten  of  'em  if  you  like,  Mr.  Homer;  give 
folks  their  choice." 

"A  —  I  think  not,  Thomas,"  said  Mr. 
Homer.  "  I  am  of  opinion  that  that  would 
be  unadvisable.  We  will  put  the  single  al 
ternative,  if  you  please.  I  thank  you.  Now 
to  proceed.  Here  again." 

He  selected  another  shell,  breathed  on  it, 
and  rubbed  it  on  his  coat-sleeve. 


134  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  Here  again  is  an  exquisite  —  a  —  ema 
nation  from  nature's  loo —  I  would  rather 
say  from  nature's  workshop.  Observe, 
Thomas,  the  rich  blending  of  hues,  vio 
let  and  crimson,  in  this  beautiful  object. 
I  trust  that  we  shall  be  more  fortunate  this 
time  in  the  matter  of  nomenclature.  Num 
ber  743,  Thomas.  How  is  it  set  down  in 
the  book  ? " 

"  Hopkins's  Blob,"  said  Tommy. 

"  Dear !  dear !  "  said  Mr.  Homer.  "  This 
is  sad,  Thomas ;  this  is  sad,  indeed.  Blob ! 
a  most  unlovely  word.  And  yet "  -  he 
paused  for  a  moment  —  "it  rhymes  —  it 
rhymes  with  '  sob.'  Do  me  the  favor  to 
pause  an  instant,  Thomas.  I  have  an  idea : 
a  —  an  effluence  ;  —  a  —  an  abstraction  of 
the  spirit  into  the  realms  of  poesy." 

He  was  silent,  while  Tommy  Candy 
watched  him  with  twinkling  gray  eyes.  At 
first  the  little  gentleman's  face  wore  a  look 


CONCHOLOGY  AND   OTHER    THINGS    135 

of  intense  gravity;  but  soon  it  lightened. 
He  passed  his  hand  twice  or  thrice  across 
his  brow,  and  sighed,  a  long,  happy  sigh ; 
then  he  turned  a  beaming  look  on  his  com 
panion. 

"I  do  not  know,  my  young  friend,"  he 
said,  mildly,  "  whether  you  have  ever  given 
much  thought  to  —  a  —  the  Muse ;  but  it 
may  interest  you  to  note  the  manner  in  which 
she  occasionally  wings  her  flight.  A  moment 
ago,  this  gracious  object "  —  he  waved  the 
shell  gently  —  "was,  so  far  as  we  are  aware, 
unsung ;  —  a  —  uncelebrated ;  —  a  —  lack 
ing  its  meed  of  mellifluous  expression.  Now 
—  but  you  shall  judge,  sir.  In  this  brief 
moment  of  silence,  the  following  lines  crys 
tallized  in  my  brain.  Ahem !  " 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  folded  his  hands  meekly;  then 
began  to  recite  in  a  kind  of  runic  chant: 


136  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  The  poet-heart  doth  sigh, 
The  poet-soul  doth  sob, 
To  see  a  sight 
Of  beauty  bright 
Oppressed  by  name  of  '  blob  ' ! 

"  O  cacophonic  ci'owd  ! 
O  unmellifluous  mob  ! 

The  poet's  lip 

Would  nectar  sip, 
But  scorns  to  browse  on  '  blob '  I 

The  expression  is  condensed,"  said  Mr. 
Homer,  with  modest  pride ;  "  but  I  am  of 
opinion  that  condensation  often  lends 
strength ;  —  a  —  are  you  also  of  that  opin 
ion,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  Every  time !  "  said  Tommy  Candy. 

Mr.  Homer  looked  bewildered,  but  bowed 
gently,  accepting  the  commendation  ex 
pressed  in  Tommy's  voice.  "  I  am  glad  that 
my  little  effusion  meets  with  your  approval, 
Thomas,"  he  said.  "  It  is  the  first  effort  I 
have  been  able  to  make  since  the  death  of 


CONCHOLOGY  AND    OTHER    THINGS    137 

my  lamented  relative.  A  —  a  simple  move 
ment,  sir,  of  the  Muse's  wing ;  a  — • 
a  —  " 

"  Flap  ?  "  suggested  Tommy  Candy. 

Mr.  Homer  looked  still  more  bewildered, 
but  bowed  again,  waving  his  hands  with  a 
gesture  of  mingled  protest  and  deprecation. 

"  I  am  of  opinion,  Thomas,"  he  said, 
"  that  prose  is  the  vehicle  in  which  your 
thoughts  are  most  apt  to  find  expression. 
The  wings  of  the  Muse  do  not,  in  my  opin 
ion,  —  a  —  a  —  flap.  But  it  is  a  matter  — 
a  — •  scarcely  germane  to  the  occasion.  We 
will  pursue  our  researches,  if  you  please." 

The  next  names  were  more  fortunate. 
The  Golden  Gem  was  followed  by  the  Mer 
maid's  Comb,  and  Mr.  Homer  glowed  with 
poetic  joy  as  he  placed  the  pretty  things  on 
the  shelves  of  the  cabinet  that  awaited  them. 

"  I  foresee,  Thomas,"  he  exclaimed,  joy 
fully,  "  a  resuscitation  of  the  poetic  faculty. 


138  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

I  feel  that,  surrounded  by  these  shapes  of 
beauty,  and  not  oppressed  by  such  inappro 
priate  cacophonies  as  Blork  and  Snob  —  I 
would  say  Snork  and  Blob  —  I  shall  often 
joyfully,  as  well  as  strictly,  meditate  the 
—  I  find  myself  unable  to  characterize  the 
Muse  as  '  thankless,'  in  spite  of  my  profound 
admiration  for  the  immortal  Milton.  My 
spirit  will,  I  feel  it,  once  more  sing,  and  — 
wing,  sir  !  '  Mermaid's  Comb !  '  In  gaz 
ing  on  this  symmetrical  shape,  my  young 
friend,  may  we  not  in  our  mind's  eye,  Hora 
tio  —  I  would  say  Thomas  —  the  remark  is 
Hamlet's,  as  you  are  without  doubt  aware  — 
behold  it  in  the  hand  of  some  fair  nymph,  or 
siren,  or  —  or  person  of  that  description  — 
and  behold  her  '  sleeking  her  soft  alluring 
locks,'  in  Milton's  immortal  phrase  ?  A  — 
candor  compels  me  to  state,  Thomas,  that  on 
the  few  —  the  very  few  —  occasions  when  — 
when  I  have  seen  the  locks  of  the  fair 


CONCHOLOGY  AND    OTHER    THINGS    139 

sex  in  a  state  of  —  a  —  dampness ;  —  of  — 
humidity ;  —  a  —  of  —  moisture,  I  have  not 
thought "  (Mr.  Homer  blushed  very  red) 
"  that  the  condition  was  one  which  enhanced ; 
which  — •  a  —  added  to,  the  charms  with 
which  that  sex  is  —  in  a  large  number  of 
cases  —  endowed." 

"  That's  so !  "  said  Tommy.  "  Take  'em 
after  a  shampoo,  and  they're  a  sight,  even 
the  good-lookin'  ones." 

Mr.  Homer  blushed  still  redder,  and  took 
out  his  handkerchief.     "  I  have  never,  —  ' 
he  began,  and  then  coughed,  and  waved  the 
subject  delicately  away. 

"  It  is  probable,"  he  said,  "  that  if  —  a  — 
such     semi-celestial     individuals     as     those 
described    by    the    poet    existed  —  a  —  pos 
sessed   a  corporal  envelope  —  a  —  were  en 
dowed  with  a  local  habitation  and  a  name  — 
Shakespeare  —  they    would    not    be    subject 
to  conditions  which  —  which  tend  to  the  — 


140  MtiS.    TREE'S    WILL 

a  —  obscuration  of  beauty ;  but  we  will  pro 
ceed,  if  you  please,  Thomas.  Hark !  was 
that  a  knock  at  the  door  ?  " 

They  listened.  There  was  a  silence ;  then, 
beyond  question,  came  a  knock  on  the  outer 
door;  a  loud,  imperative  rap,  with  a  sug 
gestion  of  rhythm,  almost  of  flourish,  in  its 
repetition.  "  Rat-ta-tat,  rat-ta-tat,  rat-ta- 
tat !  "  Then  silence  again. 

"  Direxia  is  in  bed,"  said  Tommy  Candy. 
"  I'll  go." 

"  Wait ;  wait  a  moment,  Thomas !  "  said 
Mr.  Homer,  nervously.  "  Do  you  think  — 
it  is  near  nine  o'clock  —  do  you  think  that 
courtesy  absolutely  demands  our  opening 
the  door  ?  " 

Tommy  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  It  —  it  is  probably  a  lady !  "  said  Mr. 
Homer,  piteously.  "  She  is  without  doubt 
bringing  me  —  a  —  food ;  —  a  —  bodily  pab 
ulum  ;  —  a  —~  refreshment  for  the  inner 


CONCHOLOGY  AND   OTHER    THINGS    141 

man.  Thomas,  I — I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could 
receive  another  dish  at  present.  I  have 
received  four  —  have  I  not  ?  —  assaults  — 
a  —  I  would  say,  gifts,  to-day,  all  tend 
ing  to  —  overtax  the  digestive  powers,  even 
if  Direxia's  friendly  ministrations  did  not 
invite  —  or  more  properly  demand  —  all  the 
powers  of  that  description  which  I  possess." 
"  Pineapple  cream,  Miss  Wax,"  replied 
Tommy  Candy,  briefly.  "  That  was  good ; 
I  ate  it  myself.  Lobster  salad,  Miss  Goby; 
claws  round  it;  might  have  boiled  her  own 
for  a  garnish ;  calf 's-foot  jelly,  Widder 
Ketchum;  plum  cake,  Mis'  Pottle.  Seth 
Weaver  says  that  wyhen  Doctor  Pottle 
is  short  of  patients,  the  old  lady  always 
bakes  a  batch  of  fruit-cake  and  sends  it 
round.  It's  sure  to  fetch  somebody;  you 
could  ballast  a  schooner  with  it,  Seth  says. 
Yes,  that  makes  four,  sir.  But  maybe  this 
isn't  a  woman,  Mr.  Homer.  I  don't  think 


142  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

it  sounds  like  one,  and  anyhow,  I  wouldn't 
let  one  in,  noways.  You'd  better  let  me  go, 
sir." 

The  knock  sounded  again,  still  more  im 
perative  ;  and  now  a  voice  was  heard,  a 
man's  voice,  thin  and  high,  crying,  impa 
tiently  :  "  Within  there !  house !  what  ho ! 
within  1  " 

Mr.  Homer  gasped,  and  loosened  his  neck 
tie  convulsively. 

"  My  mind  is  probably  failing,"  he  said. 
"  That  voice  —  is  probably  a  hallucina 
tion  ;  —  a  —  an  aberration ;  a  —  you  hear 
no  voice,  I  should  surmise,  Thomas  ?  " 

He  gazed  eagerly  at  Tommy,  who,  really 
alarmed  for  his  friend's  reason,  stared  at 
him  in  return. 

"  Of  course  I  hear  it,  sir,"  he  said.  "  He's 
hollering  fit  to  raise  the  roof.  Riled,  I  ex 
pect;  you'd  better  let  me  go,  Mr.  Homer." 

Mr.  Homer  relaxed  his  hold.     "  Thomas," 


"  AS  HE  HELD  THE  CANDLE  HIGH,  ITS  WAVERING 
LIGHT  FELL  ON  THE  COUNTENANCE  OF  THE 
STRANGER  " 


CONCHOLOGY  AND    OTHER    THINGS    143 

he  said,  solemnly,  "  I  think  it  improbable 
that  you  will  find  any  corporal  substance  at 
that  door:  nevertheless,  open  it,  if  you  will 
be  so  good !  open  it,  Thomas !  " 

Greatly  wondering,  Tommy  Candy  ran  to 
the  door  and  flung  it  wide  open.  There  on 
the  threshold  stood  a  man,  his  hand  raised 
in  the  act  of  knocking  again.  A  little  man, 
in  a  flyaway  cloak,  with  a  flyaway  necktie 
and  long,  fluttering  mustaches ;  a  little  man 
who  looked  in  the  dim  light  like  a  cross  be 
tween  a  bat  and  the  Flying  Dutchman. 

"  House  !  "  said  the  little  man.  "  Within 
there!" 

"  Well,"  said  Tommy,  slowly,  "  I  never 
said  it  was  a  monument !  " 

The  stranger  made  a  gesture  of  brushing 
him  away. 

"  Minion,"  he  said,  "  bandy  no  words, 
but  straightway  tell  me,  does  Homer  Hollo- 
peter  lurk  within  ?  " 


144  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  Did  you  wish  to  see  him  ? "  inquired 
Tommy,  civilly  yet  cautiously.  A  backward 
glance  over  his  shoulder  gave  him  a  curious 
impression.  Mr.  Homer's  shadow,  as  he 
stood  just  within  the  parlor  door,  was  thrown 
on  the  pale  shining  wood  of  the  hall  floor; 
this  shadow  seemed  to  flutter,  with  motions 
singularly  like  those  of  the  stranger.  An 
other  moment,  and  the  little  gentleman  came 
forward,  carrying  a  candle.  He  was  trem 
bling  violently,  and,  as  he  held  the  candle 
high,  its  wavering  light  fell  on  the  counte 
nance  of  the  stranger. 

"  Gee  whiz !  "  muttered  Tommy  Candy. 
"  It's  himself  over  again  in  black." 

"  It  is  my  brother  Pindar !  "  cried  Mr. 
Homer,  dropping  the  candle.  "It  is  my 
only  brother,  whom  I  thought  dead  —  a  — 
defunct ;  —  a  —  wafted  to  —  my  dear  fel 
low,  my  dear  brother,  how  are  you  ?  This 
is  a  joyful  moment ;  this  is  —  a  —  an  aus- 


CONCHOLOGY  AND   OTHEE    THINGS    145 

picious  occasion ;  this  is  —  a  —  an  oasis  in 
the  arid  plains  v/hich  —  " 

"  Encircle  us !  "  said  Mr.  Pindar.  "  Pre 
cisely  !  Homer,  embrace  me  !  " 

He  flung  his  arms  abroad,  and  the  batlike 
cloak  fluttered  out  to  its  fullest  width.  Mr. 
Homer  seemed  to  shrink  together,  and  it 
was  himself  he  embraced,  with  a  frightened 
gesture. 

"  Oh,  quite  so ! "  he  cried,  hurriedly. 
"  Very  much  so,  indeed,  my  dear  brother. 
The  spirit,  Pindar,  the  spirit,  returns  your 
proffered  salute;  but  foreign  customs,  sir, 
have  never  obtained  in  Quahaug.  I  bid  you 
heartily,  heartily  welcome,  my  dear  brother. 
Come  in,  come  in !  " 

Mr.  Pindar  flung  up  his  hand  with  a 
lofty  gesture.  "  My  benison  upon  this 
house !  "  he  cried.  "  The  wanderer  returns. 
The  traveller  —  a  —  sets  foot  upon  his  na- 


146  MBS.    TKEE'S    WILL 

tive  heath.  —  I  would  say  door-step.  Flour 
ish  and  exeunt.  Set  on !  " 

The  two  brothers  vanished.  Tommy 
Candy,  still  standing  on  the  threshold,  stared 
after  them  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  and 
slowly  rumpled  his  hair  till  it  stood  on  end 
in  elfish  spikes,  as  it  had  done  in  his  child 
hood. 

"I  swan!"  said  Tommy  Candy.  "I 
swan  to  everlastin'  gosh!  the  Dutch  is  beat 
this  time  1  " 


CHAPTEK   VIII. 

MB.    PINDAR 

TOMMY  CANDY  was  about  to  reenter  the 
house,  when  something  seemed  to  attract  his 
attention.  He  gazed  keenly  through  the 
soft  darkness  at  the  house  opposite;  then 
he  uttered  a  low  whistle,  and,  leaning  on  his 
stick  (for  Miss  Penny  was  right ;  poor 
Tommy  was  very  lame,  and  had  climbed 
his  last  steeple),  made  his  way  down  the 
garden-path  to  the  gate.  "  Annie  Lizzie, 
is  that  you  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Hush ! "  the  answer  came  in  a  soft 
voice.  "  Yes,  Tommy.  How  you  scared  me ! 
I  didn't  think  there  was  any  one  up.  Ma 
147 


148  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

thought  she  heard  something,  and  wanted 
I  should  look  out  and  see  if  there  was  any 
one  round." 

"  You  tell  her  the  Sheriff  has  come  to  get 
Isaac,"  said  Tommy,  "  and  he's  stopping 
with  us  overnight.  He'll  be  over  in  the 
morning,  tell  her,  with  the  handcuffs,  bright 
and  early." 

"  Oh,  hush,  Tommy !  you  hadn't  ought  to 
talk  so !  "  said  the  soft  voice,  and  a  slen 
der  figure  slipped  across  the  road  in  the 
dark,  and  came  to  the  gate.  "  Honest, 
Tommy,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  so  about 
Isaac  and  the  rest  of  'em.  It  don't  seem 
right." 

"  Annie  Lizzie,"  said  Tommy,  "  I  never 
said  a  word  against  ary  one  of  'em,  so  long 
as  I  thought  they  was  your  kin;  but  since 
I  found  out  that  you  was  only  adopted, 
why,  I  don't  see  no  reason  why  or  where- 


MB.    PINDAR  149 

fore  I  shouldn't  give  'em  as  good  as  they 
deserve,  now  I  don't." 

"  Well,  they  did  adopt  me,"  said  Annie 
Lizzie.       "  Don't,     Tommy,     please !       Ma 


"  She  ain't  your  Ma !  "  interrupted 
Tommy ;  "  and  I  don't  want  you  should 
call  her  so,  Annie  Lizzie ;  there !  " 

"  Well,  she  says  I  would  have  gone  on 
the  town  only  for  them,"  the  soft  voice  went 
on.  "  You  wouldn't  want  I  should  be  un 
grateful,  would  you,  Tommy  ?  " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Tommy,  grimly. 
"  I'm  willing  you  should  be  grateful  for  all 
the  chance  you've  had  to  wash  and  scrub  and 
take  care  of  them  Weight  brats.  But  this 
ain't  what  I  called  you  over  for,  Annie  Liz 
zie.  Say,  there  did  some  one  come  just  now ; 
Mr.  Homer's  brother !  " 

"  I  want  to  know !  "  said  Annie  Lizzie. 
In  the  darkness,  Tommy  could  almost  see 


150  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

her  glow  with  gentle  wonder  and  curiosity. 
"  What  is  he  like,  Tommy  ?  I  didn't  know 
Mr.  Homer  had  a  brother,  nor  any  one  be- 
longin'  to  him  nearer  than  Mis'  Strong." 

"  No  more  did  I,"  said  Tommy.  "  But 
here  he  is,  as  like  Mr.  Homer  as  two  peas, 
only  he's  a  black  one." 

"  For  gracious'  sake,  Tommy  Candy !  you 
don't  mean  a  colored  man  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  I  mean  dark-complected,  with 
black  eyes.  You  make  an  errand  over  to 
morrow,  and  you'll  see  him.  He  looks  to 
be  a  queer  one,  I  tell  you !  " 

"  If  he's  as  good  as  Mr.  Homer,"  said 
Annie  Lizzie,  "  I  shouldn't  care  how  queer 
he  was." 

"  No  more  should  I,"  cried  Tommy, 
warmly ;  "  but  he'd  have  to  work  pretty  hard 
to  ketch  up  with  Mr.  Homer  in  goodness. 
Say,  Annie  Lizzie,  come  a  mite  nearer,  can't 
you?" 


MB.   PINDAR  151 

u  I  can't,  Tommy.  I  must  go  home  this 
minute;  Ma  will  be  wonderin'  where  I  am. 
There !  do  let  me  go,  Tommy !  " 

A  window  was  raised  in  the  house  oppo 
site,  and  the  wheezy  voice  of  Mrs.  Weight 
was  heard: 

"  Annie  Lizzie,  where  are  you  ?  Don't 
you  1'iter  there  now,  and  me  ketchin'  my 
everlastin'  hollerin'  for  you.  Come  in  this 
minute,  do  you  hear  ? " 

There  was  a  soft  sound  that  was  not  a 
voice;  and  Annie  Lizzie  slipped  back  like 
a  shadow  across  the  road. 

"  I'm  comin',  Ma !  "  she  said.  "  It's  real 
warm  and  pleasant  out,  but  I'm  comin'  right 
in." 

"  Do  you  see  any  one  round  ?  "  asked  the 
Deacon's  widow. 

Annie  Lizzie  shut  her  eyes  tight,  for  she 
was  a  truthful  girl.  "  No'm,"  she  said;  "  I 
don't." 


152  MRS.    TREE' S    WILL 

In  the  Captain's  room,  Mr.  Homer's  fa 
vorite  apartment,  the  two  brothers  stood  and 
looked  each  other  in  the  face.  As  Tommy 
said,  the  likeness  was  intimate,  spite  of  the 
difference  in  color:  the  same  figure,  the  same 
gestures,  the  same  general  effect  of  waviness 
in  outline,  of  nutter  in  motion ;  yet,  to  speak 
in  paradox,  with  a  difference  in  the  very 
likeness.  There  was  an  abruptness  of  ad 
dress  in  the  newcomer,  foreign  to  the  gentle 
ambiguous  flow  of  Mr.  Homer's  speech; 
where  Mr.  Homer  waved,  Mr.  Pindar 
jerked;  where  Mr.  Homer  fluttered  feebly, 
his  brother  fluttered  vivaciously.  They  flut 
tered  now,  both  of  them,  as  they  stood  facing 
each  other.  For  a  moment  neither  found 
words,  but  it  was  Mr.  Pindar  who  spoke 
first. 

"  I  have  surprised  you,  brother !  "  he 
cried;  "confess  it!  Surprise,  chief  tidbit 
at  the  Feast  of  Life !  Alarums  and  excur- 


MR.   PINDAR  153 

sions !  enter  King  Henry,  with  forces  march 
ing.  You  did  not  expect  to  see  the  Wan 
derer  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  did  not,  my  dear  brother !  " 
cried  Mr.  Homer,  the  tears  standing  in  his 
mild  eyes.  "  I  have  not  even  felt  sure,  Pin 
dar,  of  your  being  alive  in  these  latter  years. 
Why,  why  have  you  kept  this  silence,  my 
dear  fellow?  think  how  many  years  it  is 
since  I  have  heard  a  word  from  you !  " 

Mr.  Pindar  fluttered  vivaciously;  he  was 
certainly  more  like  a  bat  than  the  Flying 
Dutchman.  "  I  apologize !  "  he  cried.  "  I 
have  been  at  fault,  Homer,  I  admit  it.  To 
own  him  wrong,  the  haughty  spirit  bows  — 
no  more  of  it !  The  past "  —  he  swept  it 
away  with  one  wing  —  "  is  buried.  This 
night  its  obsequies !  Hung  be  the  heavens 
with  black ;  a  pickaxe  and  a  spade,  a  spade ; 
other  remarks  of  a  similar  nature.  Homer, 
our  cousin  Marcia  loved  me  not!  "  (it  was 


154  MRS.    TREE-'S    WILL 

true.  "  I  can  stand  a  beetle,"  Mrs.  Tree 
was  used  to  say,  "  or  I  can  stand  a  bat ;  but 
a  bat-beetle,  and  a  dancing  one  at  that,  is 
more  than  I  can  abide.  Cat's  foot!  don't 
talk  to  me!"). 

"  Yet  when  I  heard  —  through  the  me 
dium  of  the  public  prints  —  that  she  was 
no  more,  I  felt  a  pang,  sir,  a  pang.  I  would 
have  assisted  at  the  funeral  solemnities;  it 
would  have  been  a  pleasure  to  me  to  com 
pose  a  dirge ;  the  first  strophe  even  suggested 
itself  to  me.  '  Ta-ta,  tarum,  tarum '  (muf 
fled  drums)  ;  '  ta  tee,  ta  tidol '  (trombones)  ; 
but  these  things  require  time,  sir,  time." 

"  Surely !  "  said  Mr.  Homer,  with  a  meek 
bow ;  "  surely ;  and  indeed,  Pindar,  the 
ceremonies  were  of  the  simplest  description, 
in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  our  revered 
and  deceased  relative.  But  sit  down,  my 
dear  brother;  sit  down,  and  let  me  procure 
some  refreshment ;  —  a  —  sustenance ;  —  a  — 


ME.   PINDAR  155 

bodily  pabulum,  for  you.  Have  you  come 
far,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  From  the  metropolis,  sir ;  from  New 
York !  "  replied  Mr.  Pindar,  seating  him 
self  and  throwing  back  his  little  batlike 
cloak. 

"  By  rail  to  the  Junction ;  the  evening 
stage,  a  jolt,  &  rattle,  and  a  crawl,  —  behold 
me !  A  crust,  Homer,  a  crust !  no  disturb 
ance  of  domestic  equilibrium.  A  consort 
lurks  within  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Brother !  "  said  Mr. 
Homer,  with  a  bewildered  look. 

"  A  wife,  sir,  a  wife !  "  said  Mr.  Pindar. 
"  Are  you  married,  Homer  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  no,  indeed,  my  dear  brother !  " 
said  Mr.  Homer,  hastily,  and  blushing  very 
red.  "  Nothing  of  the  kind,  I  assure  you. 
And  you  ?  " 

"  Perish  the  thought !  "  said  Mr.  Pindar ; 
and  he  waved  the  Sex  out  of  existence. 


156  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Mr.  Homer  looked  troubled,  but  hastened 
out  of  the  room,  and,  after  some  ineffective 
appeals  to  Tommy,  who,  as  we  know,  was 
talking  with  Annie  Lizzie  at  the  gate,  for 
aged  for  himself,  and  returned  with  crackers 
and  cheese,  doughnuts  and  cider.  Seated 
together  at  this  simple  feast,  the  two  brothers 
looked  at  each  other  once  more,  and  both 
rubbed  their  hands  with  precisely  the  same 
gesture. 

"  Food !  "  cried  Mr.  Pindar,  vivaciously ; 
"  and  drink !  necessities,  base  if  you  will, 
but  grateful,  sir,  grateful !  Brother,  I 
pledge  you !  " 

"  Brother,  I  drink  to  you !  "  cried  Mr. 
Homer,  filling  his  glass  with  a  trembling 
hand.  "  To  our  reunion,  sir !  the  —  the  re 
kindling  of  —  of  affection's  torch,  my  dear 
brother.  Long  may  it  — 

"  Blaze !  "  cried  Mr.  Pindar,  with  a  sud 
den  skip  in  his  chair.  "  Snap !  crackle ! 


MB.    PINDAR  157 

flame !  crepitate !  Pindar  to  Homer  shall, 
bright  glass  to  glass  — •  enough !  "  He 
ceased  suddenly,  and  fell  upon  the  crackers 
and  cheese  with  excellent  appetite. 

Mr.  Homer  watched  him  in  anxious  and 
bewildered  silence :  once  or  twice  he  opened 
his  lips  as  if  about  to  speak,  but  closed  them 
each  time  with  a  sigh  and  a  shake  of  the 
head.  The  visitor  was  the  first  to  speak, 
beginning,  when  the  last  cracker  had  disap 
peared,  as  suddenly  as  he  had  left  off. 

"  Brother,"  he  said,  "  why  am  I  here  ?  " 

Mr.  Homer  repeated  the  words  vaguely: 
"  Why  are  you  here,  my  dear  brother  ?  I 
doubt  not  that  affection's  call,  the  —  voice 
of  sympathy,  of  —  a  —  brotherhood,  of  - 
consanguinity,  —  a  —  sounded  in  your 
ears  — 

"  Trumpets !  "  Mr.  Pindar  struck  a  so 
norous  note,  and  nodded  thrice  with  great 
solemnity.  "  Alarums  and  excursions ;  enter 


158  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

long-lost  brother,  centre.  You  are  right, 
Homer ;  but  this  was  not  all.  The  Dramatic 
Moment,  sir,  had  struck." 

With  these  words,  he  folded  his  arms,  and, 
dropping  his  head  on  his  breast,  gazed  up 
through  his  eyebrows  in  a  manner  which 
Mr.  Homer  found  highly  disconcerting. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  said  Mr.  Homer,  with 
vague  politeness. 

"  Struck !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pindar,  nodding 
solemnly.  "Sounded.  Knelled — no!  tolled  — 
not  precisely !  larumed,  sir,  larumed !  " 

"  '  Larumed '  is  a  fine  word,"  said  Mr. 
Homer,  meekly,  "  but  I  fail  to  apprehend 
your  precise  meaning,  Brother  Pindar." 

"  You  know  what  '  dramatic '  means,  I 
suppose,  Homer,"  replied  Mr.  Pindar,  tes 
tily,  "  though  you  never  had  an  atom  of  the 
quality  in  your  composition.  And  you  know 
what  a  moment  is.  The  Dramatic  Moment 
—  I  repeat  it  —  in  your  life  and  the  life  of 


MB.   PINDAR  159 

this  village  —  has  larumed,  sir.  Listen  to  it, 
Homer;  look  upon  it,  sir;  grasp  it!  The 
old  order  —  gone ! "  he  swept  it  away. 
"  The  new  —  its  foot  upon  the  threshold !  " 
he  beckoned  toward  the  door,  and  Mr. 
Homer  looked  round  nervously.  "  Usher  it 
in,  to  sound  of  trump  and  drum.  We  must 
celebrate,  Homer,  celebrate.  To  that  end, 
behold  me!" 

Mr.  Homer  passed  his  hand  across  his 
brow  and  sighed  wearily.  "  My  dear 
brother,"  he  said,  "  you  must  excuse  me  if 
I  do  not  yet  altogether  understand,  —  a  — 
comprehend,  —  a  —  accord  the  hospitality 
of  the  intellect,  to  —  to  the  idea  that  you 
desire  to  convey.  I  feel  little  if  any  resem 
blance  at  this  moment  to  a  watcher  of  the 
skies  —  Keats,  as  I  need  not  remind  you ; 
but  I  cannot  feel  that  this  is  a  time  for 
rejoicing,  Pindar." 

"  For  celebration,  sir !    for  celebration !  " 


160  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

cried  Mr.  Pindar,  eagerly.  "  The  words  are 
not  synonymous,  as  you  are  no  doubt  aware. 
Let  the  mysteries  be  solemn,  if  you  will, 
the  sable  scarf  of  cinerary  pomp,  the  muffled 
drum,  and  wail  of  deep  bassoon;  but  this 
was  my  idea,  sir;  thus  the  vision  rose  be 
fore  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio,  —  I  would 
say,  Homer.  A  procession,  sir.  Maidens, 
white-clad,  flower-crowned,  scattering  roses; 
matrons,  in  kirtle  and  gown,  twirling  the 
distaff ;  village  elders,  in  —  in  —  our  native 
costume  is  ill  adapted,  I  confess,  but  suit 
able  robes  might  be  obtained  at  trifling  cost, 
sir,  at  trifling  cost.  You  in  the  midst, 
crowned  with  bays,  the  poet's  robe  your 
manly  limbs  enfolding.  Following,  —  or 
preceding,  as  you  will,  —  musicians,  with 
brass  instruments.  You  write  an  ode,  I  set 
it  to  music.  Rhymes  will  readily  suggest 
themselves:  'jog,'  no!  'clog;'  hardly! 
'  agog ; '  precisely ! 


MB.    PINDAR  161 

"  Ta-ta,  ta-ta,  with  joy  agog  ; 
Quahaug  !  (bang  !)  Quahaug  1  (bang  !)  Quahaug  ! 

Kettledrums,  you  understand;  cymbals;  su 
perb  effect!  You  see  it,  Homer?  you  take 
it  in  ?  " 

He  paused,  and  gazed  on  his  brother  with 
kindling  eyes,  his  arms  extended,  the  little 
cloak  fluttering  from  them;  certainly  noth 
ing  human  ever  looked  so  like  a  bat. 

"  A  goblin !  "  said  Mr.  Homer  to  himself. 
"  My  only  brother  is  a  goblin !  " 

He  sighed  again,  yet  more  wearily,  and 
once  more  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow. 

"  My  dear  brother,"  he  said,  "  the  hour 
is  late.  I  find  myself  incapable  of  —  of 
thought.  The  weary  pinion  of  the  brain  — 
I  find  myself  incapable  even  of  metaphor, 
sir.  You  must  excuse  me.  To-morrow  —  " 

"  To  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new !  " 
cried  Mr.  Pindar,  rising  with  a  batlike 


162  MRS.    TREE'S   WILL 

wave.  "  Precisely !  Enter  attendants  with 
torches.  The  minion  waits  without  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mr.  Homer,  "  not  exactly, 
Pindar.  Direxia  Hawkes  has  —  a  —  re 
tired  to  rest ;  has  —  a  —  sought  the  sleep 
which  —  which  —  " 

"  Knits  up  the  ravelled  sleeve  of  care !  " 
suggested  Mr.  Pindar. 

"  Oh,  very  much  so !  "  cried  Mr.  Homer. 
"  You  surely  remember  Direxia,  brother, 
and  will  no  doubt  agree  with  me  that 
the  term  '  minion '  cannot  properly  be 
applied  to  Cousin  Marcia's  old  and  faith 
ful  retainer.  And  —  the  youth  who  —  who 
admitted  you,  is  Thomas  Candy,  my  friend 
and  fellow  trustee.  Thomas  is  an  invalu 
able  person,  Pindar;  he  is  like  a  son  to 
me,  I  assure  you.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  value 
Thomas.  I  will  suggest  to  him  the  advisa 
bility  of  bringing  candles.  Oh,  here  he  is! 
Thomas,  this  is  my  brother  Pindar,  my  only 


MR.   PINDAR  163 

brother,  returned  after  the  lapse  of  many 
years  to  —  to  his  native  heath,  if  I  may  so 
express  myself.  Thomas  Candy,  my  dear 
brother !  " 

"Son  of  Silas?"  cried  Mr.  Pindar. 
"  Ha !  'tis  well.  Stripling,  thy  hand !  lives 
yet  thy  father,  ha?" 

Tommy  grinned,  and  rumpled  his  hair 
with  an  elfish  look  eminently  unfitting  a 
trustee. 

"  You  are  the  one  he  used  to  play  ghost 
with,  and  scare  the  Weightses,"  he  said. 
"  I've  heard  of  you,  sir.  Father  isn't  livin', 
but  Mis'  Tree  told  me  about  it.  Glad  to 
see  you,  sir !  " 


CHAPTER   IX. 

"QUAND  ON  CONSPIRE" 

ME.  PINDAK  HOLLOPETER  slept  long  and 
late  the  next  morning,  as  became  a  gentle 
man  of  metropolitan  habits;  he  had  not 
yet  made  his  appearance  when  Will  Jaquith 
came  swinging  along  the  street  and  turned 
in  at  the  gate.  Tommy  Candy  was  at  work 
in  the  garden,  trimming  the  roses,  as  Will 
himself  had  been  used  to  do  before  he  was 
a  family  man  and  a  postmaster,  and  at  sight 
of  him  Will  stopped. 

"  Just  the  man  I  was  looking  for,  Tom !  " 
he  said.  "  I  want  to  consult  you." 

"  Same  here !  "  said  Tommy,  straighten- 
164 


"QUAND   ON   CONSPIRE"  165 

ing  himself  and  looking  over  the  sweetbriar 
bush.  "  What's  up  your  way  ?  " 

"  This !  "  said  Will,  taking  a  postal  card 
from  his  pocket.  "  I  don't  make  a  practice 
of  reading  postal  cards,  Tom,  but  I  thought 
I'd  better  do  it  this  time,  as  I  recognized 
the  handwriting;"  and  he  read  aloud: 
"  '  Expect  me  to-morrow  at  eleven,  for  the 
day.  M.  DAREACOTT  PRYOR.'  ' 

"  Gee !  "  said  Tommy  Candy. 

"  Whiz !  "  said  Will  Jaquith.  "  Exactly. 
Now  what  are  we  to  do  ?  I  promised  Mr. 
Homer  that  she  should  not  torment  him." 

"  And  I  promised  Her,"  said  Tommy, 
slowly  ("  Her  "  was  Mrs.  Tree,  once  and  for 
all  time,  with  Tommy  Candy),  "  that  that 
woman  should  never  stay  in  this  house. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  ?  It  was  the  last  time  ever 
I  was  sittin'  with  her.  I'll  never  forget  it; 
she  knew  she  hadn't  long  to  stay,  for  as  brisk 
and  chirk  as  she  was;  she  knew  it  right 


166  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

enough.  '  Tommy,'  she  says,  l  when  I'm 
gone,  I  look  to  you  to  keep  cats  off  the  place ; 
do  you  hear  ? '  She  couldn't  abide  cats,  you 
know.  I  says,  '  There  sha'n't  any  cat  come 
on  the  place  if  I  can  help  it,  Mis'  Tree,' 
I  says,  '  and  I  expect  I  can.'  I  didn't  have 
no  idea  at  first  what  she  meant.  She  raps 
her  stick  and  looks  at  me.  Gorry!  when 
she  looked  at  you,  she  hadn't  hardly  no  need 
to  speak ;  her  eyes  did  the  talkin'.  '  Cats ! ' 
she  says.  '  Four-legged  cats,  two-legged  cats. 
Cats  that  say  "  miaouw !  "  cats  that  say 
"  Maria !  "  keep  'em  off,  Tommy !  worry 
'em,  Tommy !  worry  'em !  do  you  hear  ? ' 

"'I  hear,  Mis'  Tree,'  I  says,  'and  I'll 
do  it' 

"  '  Good  boy,  Tommy ! '  she  says ;  and 
she  pulls  out  the  table-drawer,  same  as  she 
always  did  —  Gorry !  I  can't  talk  about 
it !  "  His  voice  faltered,  and  he  turned  away. 
"  She  was  my  best  friend !  "  he  said,  brok- 


"QUAND   ON  CONSPIBE"  167 

enly ;  "  she  was  the  best  friend  ever  a  fel 
low  had." 

"  Mine,  too,  Tommy,"  said  Will,  laying 
his  hand  kindly  on  the  lad's  shoulder. 
"  We'll  think  of  her  together,  boy,  and  we'll 
carry  out  her  wishes  if  it  takes  a  —  " 

He  checked  himself,  with  a  glance  at  the 
stick  that  never  left  Tommy's  side;  but 
Tommy  finished  the  sentence  simply: 

"  A  leg !  that's  what  we'll  do.  I'd  give 
my  good  leg,  let  alone  the  poor  one;  I 
shouldn't  have  had  that  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  her;  if  she  hadn't  sent  for  Doctor 
Strong  that  day.  Old  Pottle  was  going  to 
take  it  off,  you  know.  l  I'll  take  off  your 
ears  first !  '  she  says,  and  '  rap  '  goes  her  stick. 
1  Ninnyhammer ! '  she  says ;  '  noodle ! '  she 
says ;  '  send  for  Geoffrey  Strong.'  That 
rap  was  the  first  thing  I  heard ;  I  believe  it 
brought  me  back,  too,  from  —  from  wher- 


168  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

ever  there  is.  Gorry !  I  wish't  I  could  bring 
her  back !  " 

"  We  cannot  do  that,  Tommy,"  said  Will 
Jaquith,  sadly ;  "  but  what  we  can  do,  we 
will.  Now  about  this  —  lady !  " 

"  Look-a-here !  "  said  Tommy,  eagerly. 
"  I  don't  believe  but  what  this  fays  in  with 
what  has  been  goin'  on  here.  Last  night  —  " 
and  he  told  briefly  of  the  advent  of  Mr. 
Pindar. 

"  He's  plum  crazy,"  he  added,  "  crazy 
as  a  loon ;  but  yet  it's  a  knowin'  kind  of 
crazy,  and  I  don't  believe  but  what  he  could 
help  us." 

Will  pondered.  "  I  should  not  wonder 
if  he  could,  Tom,"  he  said  at  length.  "  I'd 
like  to  see  him,  anyhow.  Where  is  he,  and 
where  is  Mr.  Homer  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Homer's  gone  for  a  walk,"  said 
Tommy.  "  He  was  all  worked  up  about  his 
brother's  comin',  and  some  kind  of  rinktum 


"  QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  169 

he  wants  to  get  up,  here  in  the  village ;  kind 
of  crazy  circus,  near  as  I  could  make  out 
from  the  little  he  said.  He  didn't  eat  hardly 
any  breakfast,  and  Direxia  was  in  a  canip- 
tion,  so  I  got  him  to  go  for  a  walk  in  the 
woods,  to  ca'm  him  down.  That  ca'ms  him 
down  better  than  'most  anything,  generally, 
unless  it's  Miss  Wax's  barrel-organ,  and 
she's  busy  mornin's.  Come  in,  Will.  The 
other  one  wasn't  down  when  I  come  out, 
but  I  presume  likely  he  is  now.  I  tell  you 
he's  a  queer  one !  " 

They  went  in;  and,  sure  enough,  Mr. 
Pindar  was  in  the  dining-room,  eating  toast 
and  marmalade,  and  holding  forth  to  Di 
rexia  Hawkes,  who  stood  in  the  doorway, 
half-admiring,  half-distrustful.  Her  early 
opinion  of  Pindar  Hollopeter  had  been  un 
favorable,  but  he  certainly  had  an  elegant 
way  with  him,  and  used  beautiful  language. 

"  The  orange,"  he  was  saying,  as  he  waved 


170  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

a  spoonful  of  the  translucent  sweetmeat, 
"  has  ever  been  the  friend  of  man ;  unless, 
indeed,  we  share  the  view  of  those  who  hold 
that  it  was  the  original  Apple  of  Discord. 
The  answer  to  this  theory  would  appear  to 
lie  in  the  fact  that  it  is  not  an  apple  at  all. 
But  soft !  whom  have  we  here  ?  A  stranger ! 
alarums  and  entrances.  Enter  mysterious 
individual,  r.  u.  e." 

"It's  Willy  Jaquith  and  Tommy,"  said 
Direxia.  "  I'll  go  now ;  if  you  want  more 
toast,  you  can  ring  the  bell." 

"  Good  morning,  sir !  "  said  Tommy,  ad 
vancing.  "  I  hope  you  slept  well.  Let  me 
make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Jaquith; 
this  is  Mr.  Homer's  brother,  Will,  that  I  was 
telling  you  about." 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  sir !  "  said  Will. 
"  Mr.  Homer  is  a  great  friend  of  mine." 

Mr.  Pindar  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand 
with  a  superb  gesture. 


"QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  171 

"  My  brother's  friends,"  he  said,  "  find 
safe  asylum  in  this  rugged  breast.  Sir,  I 
salute  you.  Can  I  offer  you  refreshment  — 
the  wheaten  loaf,  the  smooth,  unrifled  egg, 
the  bland  emollience  of  the  butter-pat  ? 
No?" 

"Thanks!"  said  Will.  "I  have  break 
fasted,  Mr.  Hollopeter;  but  don't  let  me 
interrupt  you.  Thanks."  He  seated  him 
self  in  response  to  a  magnificent  wave. 
"  Pray  finish  your  breakfast,  sir !  " 

But  Mr.  Pindar  had  apparently  finished, 
and  was  besides  in  a  communicative  mood. 
After  explaining  to  them  at  great  length 
the  theory  of  Ate's  apple,  he  gave  them  a 
brief  disquisition  on  the  proper  boiling  of 
eggs,  touched  lightly  on  the  use  of  butter 
among  the  Hebrews,  and  then,  to  their  great 
delight,  proceeded  to  advert  to  his  own  com 
ing.  It  was  a  sudden  inspiration,  he  in 
formed  them.  Some  thirty  years  had  bios- 


172  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

somed  o'er  his  head  since  his  foot  had  trod 
the  soil  from  which  he  sprang.  He  left,  a 
stripling  in  his  early  flower;  he  returned 
—  "what  you  see!"  His  gesture  trans 
formed  the  little  shabby  bat-cloak  into  an 
ermine  mantle.  "  A  son  of  Thespis,  gentle 
men,  at  your  command !  " 

Tommy  opened  wide  eyes  at  this,  having 
always  heard  that  Mr.  Hollopeter  senior 
had  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Ecclesiastes 
Nudd ;  but  Will  bowed  respectfully  in  re- 

it 

sponse  to  the  wave.  "  An  actor,  sir  ?  "  he 
asked,  deferentially. 

Mr.   Pindar  bowed  and  waved  again. 

"  Actor,    dramatist,   musician,    composer ! 

"  By  many  names  men  know  me, 

Tn  many  lands  I  dwell ; 
Well  Philadelphia  knows  me, 
Manhattan  knows  me  well. 

A  man  of  cities,  sir,  of  cities !  I  have  come 
to  assist  at  the  celebration  of  the  New  Order, 


"QUAND   ON   CONSPIRE"  173 

and  shall  be  glad  to  count  you  among  my 
aids."  Here  Mr.  Pindar  bowed  profoundly, 
twirled  his  mustaches,  fluttered  his  wings, 
and  proceeded  to  unfold  his  scheme  of  a 
Processional  Festival  Jubilee,  matrons, 
maidens,  distaffs,  and  all.  He  declared  that 
Will  was  the  very  figure  of  Apollo,  and 
that  Tommy,  on  account  of  his  lameness,  was 
evidently  created  for  the  part  of  Vulcan. 

"  A  disparity  of  years,  I  grant  you,  my 
young  friend,"  he  said,  graciously ;  "  but 
what !  the  gods  were  young,  when  time  was. 
The  Boy  Hephsestos !  what  say  you  ?  " 

Tommy  Candy,  probably  for  the  first 
time  in  his  young  life,  found  nothing  to 
say ;  but  Will  pronounced  the  scheme  a  most 
interesting  one.  Before  going  fully  into  it, 
however,  he  said,  he  was  anxious  to  consult 
Mr.  Pindar  on  a  matter  connected  with  his 
brother. 

Mr.  Pindar  bowed  again,  still  more  pro- 


174  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

foundly,  and  crossing  his  arms  on  his  breast, 
nodded  thrice,  each  time  more  impressively 
than  the  last. 

"  Concerning  Homer !  "  he  said.  "  My 
father's  son;  my  mother's  fair-haired  joy; 
in  short,  my  brother.  Gentles,  say  on;  my 
ears  are  all  your  own." 

"  We  have  —  learned,"  Will  began  cau 
tiously,  "  that  a  visitor  is  coming  here  this 
morning  whom  we  think  Mr.  Homer  would 
greatly  prefer  not  to  see.  The  lady  is  a 
cousin  of  yours,  sir;  Mrs.  Pryor,  formerly 
Miss  Darracott  —  " 

He  stopped,  for  Mr.  Pindar  fixed  him 
with  a  gleaming  eye  and  an  outstretched 
forefinger,  and  uttered  one  word. 

"Maria?" 

"  The  same !  "  said  Will. 

"  Maria !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pindar.  "  Ye 
gods !  Strike  home,  young  man !  my  bosom 
to  the  knife  —  strike  home !  " 


"QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  175 

"  Mr.  Homer  has  dreaded  her  coming," 
said  Will,  taking  courage ;  "  and  Mrs. 
Tree  —  a  —  did  not  —  was  not  fond  of  her, 
we  will  say.  We  thought  that  you  might  pos 
sibly  help  us,  sir,  in  devising  some  plan 
by  which,  without  being  uncivil,  we  might 
spare  Mr.  Homer  the  distress  which  — 
which  an  interview  with  this  lady  could 
hardly  fail  to  give  him." 

Mr.  Pindar  still  looked  fixedly  at  him. 
"  Maria !  "  he  muttered  once  more.  "  My 
boyhood's  knotted  scourge !  the  most  horrid 
child  that  ever  —  What  does  she  want  ?  " 

"  She  desires  to  be  a  sister  to  Mr.  Homer, 
sir,"  said  Will,  simply. 

Mr.  Pindar  recoiled.  "  Perish  the 
thought !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Sepulchred  deep 
the  curst  conception  lie!  and  you?  ye  seek 
assistance,  ha  ? " 

"  We  thought  you  might  be  able  to  help 
us  out,  sir,"  said  Will. 


176  MRS.    TBEE^S    WILL 

"  I  bet  you  could  fix  her !  "  said  Tommy. 

Mr.  Pindar's  eyes  flashed.  "  Your 
hands !  "  he  cried.  "  The  Dramatic  Moment 
strikes.  Ding  dong!  But  soft;  we  must 
dissemble !  " 

Mr.  Pindar  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips, 
and  rolled  his  eyes  on  his  visitors  with  a 
warning  glance.  Then  rising,  he  stole  with 
measured  and  elaborately  noiseless  steps  to 
the  door,  and  listened  at  the  keyhole,  then 
to  the  window,  and  peered  out  with  dramatic 
caution ;  then,  still  with  his  finger  on  his 
lips,  he  turned  to  his  companions. 

"  All  is  well !  "  he  said ;  he  waved  the 
little  bat-cloak,  and  then  drew  it  round  him 
with  a  flap  of  mystery. 

"  Approach !  "  he  whispered,  beckoning 
the  two  friends  toward  him.  "  Conspiracy 
is  the  soul  of  Drama:  approach,  friends, 
and  give  —  or  rather  receive  —  the  counter- 
sign!" 


"  QUAND   ON   CONSPIRE"  111 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  Mr.  Pindar 
Hollopeter,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  dramatic 
fire,  yet  with  a  twinkle  in  the  black  depths 
of  them,  waving  his  arms  abroad  (the  ges 
ture  so  like  his  brother's,  yet  so  unlike), 
expounding,  suggesting,  illustrating.  It  was 
pleasant,  too,  to  see  the  responsive  twinkle 
that  danced  and  deepened  in  the  blue  and 
gray  eyes  as  they  met  his. 

"  I  said  you  would  fix  it,  sir !  "  cried 
Tommy  Candy,  smiting  his  thigh. 

"  That  will  be  capital,  sir !  "  said  Will. 
"  Your  coming  seems  really  providential 
just  at  this  time.  Of  course  we  could  not 
have  shown  any  incivility  to  a  member  of 
your  family;  but  if  you  can  arrange 
this  —  " 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pindar,  dropping  his 
head  forward,  and  gazing  up  through  his 
eyebrows.  "  I  know  not  '  if.'  Regard  the 
thing  as  done !  " 


178  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Punctually  at  eleven  o'clock,  Mrs.  Pryor 
bustled  and  crackled  up  the  garden  path, 
and  rang  a  defiant  peal  at  the  bell.  She  had 
brought  no  luggage  with  her;  this  was  a 
preliminary  skirmish,  so  to  speak,  merely 
to  try  her  ground  and  assert  her  rights ;  but 
she  was  prepared  to  do  fierce  battle  with 
Direxia  Hawkes  or  any  one  else  who  might 
attempt  to  impede  her  progress  in  the  Path 
of  Duty.  Accordingly,  when  she  heard  foot 
steps  approaching  along  the  hall,  she  stood 
with  heaving  breast  and  glittering  eye,  ready 
and  determined  to  effect  an  entrance  the 
instant  a  crack  of  the  door  should  be  opened. 

But  there  was  no  question  of  a  crack  this 
time.  The  door  swung  open  to  its  fullest 
extent,  and,  instead  of  the  small  and  warlike 
figure  of  Direxia  Hawkes,  it  was  Tommy 
Candy  who  stood  on  the  threshold,  with  sub 
dued  and  sorrowful  looks. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mis'  Pryor  ?  "  he  said. 


"QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  179 

"  I'm  rejoiced  you  have  come.  I  took  the 
liberty  of  reading  your  postal,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  I  couldn't  hardly  wait  till  eleven 
o'clock  came.  We  need  you  here,  the  wust 
way,  Mis'  Pryor." 

Mrs.  Pryor's  bristling  panoply  smoothed 
itself,  and  she  even  gave  an  approving  look 
at  the  youth,  who  certainly  was  a  good- 
looking  youth,  and  had  probably  been  sub 
jected  to  evil  influences  in  his  childhood. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  have  come  at  the  right 
moment,  Tommy,"  she  said,  benignly. 
"  People  sometimes  say  that  when  I  come, 
it  is  apt  to  be  the  right  moment,  but  we 
will  not  speak  of  that  now.  What  is  wrong  ? 
Have  you  had  difficulty  in  getting  rid  of  the 
old  woman?  I  will  attend  to  that  with 
pleasure ;  it  is  my  duty."  And  she  stepped 
into  the  hall,  Tommy  making  way  for  her 
with  alacrity. 

"Oh,  no'm,"   said  Tommy.     "It  wasn't 


180  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

that;  I  don't  suppose  you  could  hire  Di- 
rexia  to  stay  —  now !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  visitor. 
"  What  has  happened  ?  Mr.  Homer  is  not 
ill  ?  nothing  contagious,  I  — "  and  she 
made  a  step  backward. 

"  Oh,  no'm !  "  said  Tommy,  mournfully. 
"  No,  I  never  heard  of  its  bein'  con 
tagious,  any  more  than  a  person  couldn't 
stand  it  long;  but  now  you  have  come,  you 
will  see  to  everything,  I  expect,  and  how 
thankful  shall  we  be.  This  way,  mum !  " 
and  he  opened  the  parlor  door. 

"  There  can't  but  one  go  in  at  a  time," 
he  whispered.  "  It  excites  him  too  much ; 
but  he's  ben  pretty  quiet  this  last  hour  or 
so;  I  guess  there  won't  be  no  danger,  not 
for  a  spell  at  least." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Pryor, 
in  alarm.  "  Tell  me  at  once  what  has  hap 
pened,  Thomas  Candy !  " 


"QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  181 

Tommy  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  turned 
away  with  something  like  a  sob.  "  You'll 
find  out  soon  enough !  "  he  murmured. 
"  There's  things  you  don't  care  to  put  into 
words.  I'm  real  glad  you've  come,  Mis' 
Pryor." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  all  he  said,"  said 
Tommy  over  the  garden  gate  that  evening, 
"  for  I  wasn't  in  the  room.  I  couldn't  hear 
only  a  scrap  now  and  again,  when  he'd  give 
a  kind  of  screech ;  but  you'd  sworn,  to  look 
at  him,  it  was  Mr.  Homer  gone  crazy.  He 
looks  like  him,  anyway,  and  he  put  on  one 
of  his  co'ts  and  blue  neckties,  and  sort  of 
flopped  his  hair  down  over  his  forehead,  — 
I  tell  ye,  he  was  complete !  and  of  course  she 
never  suspicioned  anything  about  the  other 
-  Mr.  Pindar  —  bein'  in  the  land  of  the 
livin',  or  this  part  of  it  anyway.  We  had 
the  room  darkened,  and  he  sot  there  hunched 


182  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

up  in  a  big  chair  with  his  back  to  the  light, 
sort  o'  mutterin'  to  himself,  when  I  shew 
her  in. 

"  I  kinder  prepared  her  mind,  just  as  he 
told  me,  and  she  felt  a  mite  scary,  I  guess ; 
well,  Annie  Lizzie,  he  did  the  rest;  I  had 
no  part  or  lot  in  it.  I  tell  you  he's  a  circus, 
that  man!  I  heard  him  ask  her  right  off 
the  first  thing  would  she  marry  him,  and 
be  his  young  gazelle:  that  pleased  her,  and 
yet  she  was  took  aback  a  mite,  and  said: 
'  Oh,  Homer,  this  is  very  sudden ! ' 

"  '  We'll  be  married  by  candle-light,'  he 
says,  '  and  go  off  in  a  balloon,  by  registered 
mail.  The  Emperor  of  China  is  expecting 
us  to  tea ;  we  are  to  wear  our  skulls  outside, 
and  cross-bones  in  our  clustering  locks. 
Hark  to  the  wedding  knell!  tzing  boom! 
tzing  boom !  cymbals  and  bass  drum ! ' 

"  I  heard  that  plain,  but  then  he  went  on 
muttering  for  a  spell,  and  I  couldn't  make 


"QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  183 

out  a  word,  till  she  said,  kinder  sharp  and 
twittery :  i  I  must  go  now,  Homer ;  I  have 
an  important  engagement; '  and  she  said 
something  about  coming  back  soon.  But  he 
hollers  out: 

"  '  Black  sperits  and  white, 
Red  sperits  and  gray, 
Mingle,  mingle,  mingle, 
Ye  that  mingle  may  ! ' 

And  I  heard  them  fussin'  round,  as  if  she 
was  tryin'  to  get  out  the  room  and  he  was 
keepin'  between  her  and  the  door.  At  last 
and  finally,  he  must  have  got  right  up  close't 
the  door,  for  I  heard  him  as  plain  as  I  do 
you.  '  Rats  and  bears !  rats  and  bears ! '  he 
says,  '  all  over  the  room !  all  over  the  room ! 
look  at  'em !  look  at  'em !  '  She  let  one 
yell  out  —  that  was  the  one  you  heard  — 
and  come  runnin'  out,  and  he  come  as  fur 
as  the  door  after  her,  flappin'  his  arms  and 
hoppin'  up  and  down  —  great  Jonas !  I  ex- 


184  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

pect  she'd  ben  runnin'  now  if  she  hadn't 
have  caught  the  down  stage.  I  tell  ye,  I 
won't  forget  that  one  while." 

"  Oh,  Tommy !  "  said  Annie  Lizzie,  in  her 
soft,  reproachful  voice.  "  I  think  'twas  aw 
ful  mean  to  scare  a  lady  that  way,  now  I 
do.  I  don't  think  you'd  oughter  have  done 
it;  'twasn't  pretty  actin',  no  way,  shape, 
or  manner,  don't  tell  me  it  was." 

"  Annie  Lizzie,"  said  Tommy,  "  you  don't 
know  Mis'  Pryor;  you  warn't  nothin'  but  a 
child  when  she  was  here  before.  There's 
some  folks  you  have  to  scare;  it's  the  only 
way  to  git  red  of  'em,  and  we  had  to  git  red 
of  her.  Let  alone  what  Mis'  Tree  said  to 
me  the  last  time  ever  I  saw  her,  —  though 
that  was  enough  for  me,  and  what  she  said 
goes,  as  long  as  I  live,  —  but  let  that  alone, 
do  you  think  we  was  goin'  to  let  that  woman 
set  right  down  on  Mr.  Homer,  and  smother 
him  with  sarce  ?  I  guess  not.  If  Prov'- 


"  QUAND   ON  CONSPIRE"  185 

dence  hadn't  sent  his  brother  right  in  the 
nick  of  time,  Will  and  me'd  have  had  to 
do  it  ourselves,  and  like  as  not  made  a  mess 
of  it,  and  Mr.  Homer  found  out,  and  ben 
worked  up  worse  than  what  he  is  now;  but, 
as  it  was,  it  was  all  done  in  the  family,  and 
there  warn't  a  word  said  but  what  was  po 
lite,  if  'twas  crazy.  He  couldn't  do  no  more 
than  ask  her  to  marry  him,  could  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  Tommy,  you  can  always 
talk !  "  said  Annie  Lizzie. 

"  There's  other  things  I  can  do  besides 
talk,"  said  Tommy  Candy;  and  he  did  one 
of  them. 

"  Tommy !  "  said  Annie  Lizzie.  "  How 
you  act !  " 


CHAPTER    X. 

A    PLEASANT    HOUR 

ONE  of  the  spots  I  have  always  liked  best 
in  Quahaug  (it  is  hard  for  me  even  now 
not  to  say  "  Elmerton,"  though  I  highly 
approve  the  change)  is  Salem  Rock's  back 
yard.  The  front  yard  is  the  special  prov 
ince  of  Mrs.  Rock,  a  person  whose  mind 
runs  to  double  petunias,  and  coleus ;  but  the 
back  premises  are  Salem's  own,  and  quaint 
and  homely  as  himself.  A  neat  path  of 
oyster  shells  pounded  fine  runs  straight  from 
the  back  porch  to  the  little  pier  where  the 
white  dory  lies  sunning  herself,  and  the  sail 
boat  dips  and  rises  on  the  ripple.  On  either 
side  of  the  path  is  a  square  space  of  green, 


A   PLEASANT  HOUR  187 

with  a  few  ancient  apple-trees  here  and 
there,  a  white  lilac-bush,  and  a  little  round 
summer-house  so  overgrown  with  honey 
suckle  and  clematis,  and  so  clustered  round 
by  bees  that  it  looks  like  a  quaint  flowering 
beehive  itself.  There  are  real  beehives,  too, 
six  of  them,  set  along  the  wall;  and  in  a 
narrow  border  that  runs  all  round  the  yard 
are  the  flowers  that  bees  like  best,  sweet 
rocket  and  foxglove,  mignonette  and  sweet 
alyssum,  and  a  dozen  Bothers.  All  these 
pleasant  things  may  be  found  in  other  back 
yards,  but  there  are  some  things  that  be 
long  to  this  alone.  In  the  exact  centre  of 
one  green  space  is  a  ship's  spar,  set  up 
right,  with  a  tiny  flag  fluttering  from  its 
top ;  in  the  other  stand  two  life-size  figures, 
facing  each  other;  the  figures  of  a  man  and 
a  woman.  The  man  is  in  the  dress  of  the 
thirties,  high  stock  and  collar,  shirt-frill  and 
frock-coat;  the  lady  in  flowing  classical 


188  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

draperies;  the  man  is  painted  in  lively  col 
ors,  his  coat  and  wig  (it  is  certainly  a  wig!) 
a  bright  snuff-brown,  his  eyes  and  waist 
coat  sky-blue,  his  cheeks  and  stock  a  vivid 
crimson ;  but  the  lady  is  all  white,  cheeks, 
lips,  robes  and  all;  she  might  be  marble, 
if  she  were  less  palpably  wood.  The  most 
singular  thing  about  this  singular  pair  is 
that  they  seem  to  be  coming  up  out  of  the 
earth ;  to  have  got  out  as  far  as  their  knees, 
and  then  to  have  given  it  up  and  stopped. 
It  is  evident  that  they  are  not  coming  any 
farther,  for  the  grass  grows  close  about  them, 
and  a  wild  convolvulus  has  crept  up  into 
the  lady's  lap  and  round  her  arm,  making 
the  prettiest  of  bracelets;  while,  actually,  a 
yellow  warbler  has  built  his  nest  in  the  gen 
tleman's  shirt-frill,  and  sings  there  all  sum 
mer  long. 

There  the  two  stand,   facing  each  other. 


A   PLEASANT  HOUR  189 

with  cheerful  looks;  and  there  they  have 
stood  for  fifty  years. 

On  a  certain  pleasant  morning,  about  the 
time  of  which  I  am  writing,  Salem  Rock 
and  Seth  Weaver  were  having  what  they 
called  their  annual  spree.  Seth  had  brought 
his  brushes  and  a  variety  of  paint-pots; 
Salem,  according  to  custom,  had  provided 
tobacco,  and  a  great  stone  pitcher  contain 
ing  ginger,  molasses,  and  water,  with  plenty 
of  ice  tinkling  in  it.  This  pitcher  was  set 
down  between  the  two  images,  within  reach 
of  either  man :  Seth  was  at  work  on  the 
white  lady,  while  Salem,  with  infinite  and 
loving  care,  went  over  the  gentleman's  attire, 
picking  out  the  waistcoat  pattern,  and  doing 
wonderful  things  to  the  buttons  with  a  tiny 
brush  dipped  in  gold  leaf. 

"  Old  Sir's  goin'  to  look  tasty  this  time, 
now  I  tell  ye !  "  he  said,  drawing  back,  with 
his  head  on  one  side,  to  study  the  effect. 


190  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  I've  give  him  a  yeller  sprig  to  his  vest, 
see  ?  I  expect  Old  Marm'll  say  l  yes  '  this 
time,  for  as  long  as  she's  held  out." 

"  Yes !  "  grumbled  Seth,  pipe  in  mouth. 
"  You  never  let  me  have  a  chanst  at  him, 
nor  yet  you  won't  let  me  brisk  the  Old  Lady 
up  to  match.  Give  her  a  pink  dress  now, 
and  hair  her  up  some,  and  she'd  be  a  fine- 
lookin'  woman  as  there  is  in  this  village. 
I'll  do  it,  too,  some  night;  you'll  see." 

"  No,  you  don't !  "  said  Salem,  slowly, 
as  he  drew  a  scarlet  line  down  the  seams  of 
"  Old  Sir's  "  coat.  "  White  Old  Marm  be 
gun,  and  white  she'll  stay.  Wai,  you  was 
beginnin'  to  tell  me  about  this  ruction  up 
to  Home's.  What  is  it  Pindar's  after?  I 
ain't  seen  him  yet." 

"  He's  after  a  strait-weskit,  and  he'll  get 
it,  don't  you  have  no  fears !  "  replied  Seth. 
"  He  calls  it  a  Pro-cessional  Festival  Jubi 
lee.  He's  hired  the  band  from  the  Corners, 


A   PLEASANT  HOUR  191 

and  he's  got  the  women-folks  churned  up 
till  they  don't  know  whether  they're  butter 
or  cheese.  They're  routin'  out  all  their  old 
clo'es  from  up  attic,  and  tryin'  of  'em  on, 
and  cacklin' — there!  I  thought  I'd  heerd 
hens  before;  but  this  mornin'  I  was  in  to 
Penny's  store,  and  there  was  a  passel  of 
'em  in  there  talkin'  it  over,  and  I  tell  you 
there  ain't  a  hen-yard  in  this  State  to  ekal 
it.  I  come  away  without  my  bird  seed. 
Gorry!  there's  times  when  it  feels  good  to 
be  a  single  man." 

"  That  may  be  so,  Seth,"  replied  Mr. 
Rock,  soberly ;  "  but  there's  other  times  — 
meal-times,  and  rheumatiz,  and  such  — 
when  it  ain't  so  handy.  How  does  Homer 
feel  about  all  this  ran-tan  ? " 

"  Poor  old  Home !  "  said  Seth,  shaking 
his  head.  "  He's  pooty  well  broke  up.  He 
was  jest  beginnin'  to  take  notice,  and  get 
used  to  things  the  new  way,  and  sense  it 


192  MRS.    TBEE'S    WILL 

that  it  warn't  goin'  to  kill  him  to  have 
money  in  the  bank ;  and  now  comes  Pindar, 
flappin'  and  squeakin'  like  a  ravin'-dis- 
tracted  June-bug,  and  stands  him  on  his 
head,  and  he  don't  know  where  he  is  again; 
Home  don't,  I  mean.  He  never  could  stand 
up  against  Pindar,  you  know.  You  remem 
ber  at  school  we  used  to  call  'em  Loony  and 
Moony;  Homer  was  Moony.  We  used  to 
call  after  'em  — 

"  '  Loony  and  Moony, 
Both  got  spoony, 
Dance  for  Mame  when  she  plays  'em  a  toony.' 

There!  I  ain't  thought  o'  that  for  thirty 
years,  I  don't  believe.  There  never  was  a 
single  mite  o'  harm  in  Homer  that  I  could 
see." 

"  I  left  school  before  they  come,"  said 
Salem.  "  I  was  on  my  fust  voyage  with 
Cap'n  time  they  got  there.  But  I  ric'llect 


A    PLEASANT  HOUR  193 

old  Mis'  Hollopeter,  and  the  way  she  used 
to  ride  round  in  that  old  carryall  of  her'n. 
I  can  see  her  now,  settin'  straight  as  a 
broomstick,  holdin'  up  that  little  mite  of  a 
green  parasol.  Covered  carryall,  too;  I 
remember  I  used  to  wonder  what  on  airth 
she  wanted  with  that  parasol." 

"  Mebbe  'twas  charity  for  the  neighbors," 
said  Seth.  "  She  didn't  handsome  much, 
old  Mis'  Hollopeter  didn't.  I  rec'llect  the 
carryall,  too.  When  the  boys  got  big  enough, 
one  of  them  would  drive  her,  and  she'd  set 
there  and  pour  poetry  into  him  like  corn 
into  a  hopper.  Home  asked  me  to  go  one 
day,  and  I  was  so  scairt  I  like  t'  ha'  died. 
Not  but  what  the  old  lady  meant  well,  for 
she  did;  but  what  I  mean  is,  them  boys 
never  had  no  chanst  to  be  boys  —  not  like 
other  boys  do.  Who's  this  comin'  ?  " 

There  was  a  flutter  of  pink  beside  the 
great  mallow-bush  at  the  corner  of  the  house ; 


194  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

a  slender  girl  appeared,  and  paused  bash 
fully,  with  a  doubtful  smile. 

"  'Tis  Annie  Lizzie !  "  said  Salem  Kock. 
"  Nice  little  gal !  Come  in,  Annie  Liz,  come 
in !  there's  no  one  here  only  Seth  and  me. 
What  can  we  do  for  ye  ?  Want  me  to  touch 
up  them  cheeks  with  a  mite  of  this  red  paint  ? 
'Pears  to  me  they  ain't  quite  so  rosy  as 
common." 

Both  men  looked  approvingly  at  the  girl 
as  she  came  slowly  toward  them  across  the 
grass.  Annie  Lizzie  never  seemed  in  haste; 
she  was  in  fact  rather  slow,  but  it  was  a 
soft,  graceful  slowness,  and  her  motions 
were  so  pretty  that  one  could  not  wish  to 
hurry  them.  Everything  about  the  girl  was 
soft,  gentle,  leisurely;  she  had  little  to  say, 
but  that  little  was  so  pleasantly  said,  and 
her  soft  voice  lingered  so  sweetly  over  the 
vowels,  that  one  was  sorry  when  she  had 
done  speaking. 


A   PLEASANT  HOUR  195 

She  smiled  very  sweetly  on  the  two  mid 
dle-aged  men.  "  Good  mornin',  Mr.  Rock," 
she  said.  "  'Mornin',  Mr.  Weaver !  Ma 
sent  me  on  an  errand  to  you,  Mr.  Weaver ; 
I  went  to  the  shop  fust,  and  then  I  thought 
likely  you  might  be  here,  so  I  come  along 
down." 

"  Yes !  "  said  Seth.  "  You  knew  it  was 
about  time  for  all  the  foolishness  there  is 
in  Salem  Rock  to  bust  out  in  paint.  Look 
at  the  figuree  he's  makin'  out  of  Old  Sir 
there!" 

"  Yay-us ! "  said  Annie  Lizzie,  admir 
ingly.  "  Don't  he  look  nice  ?  I  think  he's 
real  handsome,  Mr.  Rock." 

Salem  Rock  nodded,  and  gave  a  grunt  of 
satisfaction.  "  Seth's  jealous,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  you  take  no  notice  of  him,  Annie 
Lizzie!" 

"  She'll  hev  to  take  notice  of  me,"  said 


196  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Seth,  "  or  she  won't  get  what  she  come  for. 
What  does  your  Ma  want,  little  gal  ?  " 

i(  She  wanted  to  know  if  you  was  comin' 
to  paint  the  stairs  to-morrow.  This  festival 
comin'  on  and  all,  she  says  she's  ashamed 
to  have  'em  look  as  they  doos." 

"  The  festival  ain't  goin'  up  her  back 
stairs,  is  it  ?  "  asked  Seth.  "  I  wish  it  was, 
and  out  the  back  winder  and  across  lots  to 
Tom  Fool's  Pastur,  where  it  come  from." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Weaver,  how  you  talk !  "  said 
Annie  Lizzie,  in  soft  reproach.  "  I  think 
it'll  be  elegant.  I'm  jest  as  excited  about 
it!" 

"  Think  likely!  "  grunted  Seth.  "  What 
kind  o'  figuree  is  Pindar  goin'  to  make  out 
of  you,  young  un  ?  Psyche  ?  Wai,  it  takes 
all  kinds!  You  tell  your  Ma  them  stairs'll 
have  to  wait  a  spell.  There's  too  many  folks 
wantin'  the  outside  o'  their  cups  and  plat 
ters  done  up,  tell  her,  for  me  to  'tend  to  the 


BILE    IN,    SALEM!'    SAID    SF.TH   WEAVER,    'YOU 
AIN'T  FORGOT,  HAVE  YE  ?  '  " 


A   PLEASANT  HOUR  197 

insides  yet  awhile.  I'll  get  round  to  it 
bumby,  tell  her;  if  ever  I  get  done  with 
this  job !  "  he  added,  tilting  back  on  his  heels, 
and  surveying  the  white  lady.  "  I  s'pose 
you've  got  to  have  three  co'ts  on  her,  Sale  ?  " 

"  That's  what!  "  said  Salem.  "  I'd  never 
skimp  Old  Mann  in  her  co'ts,  not  if  I  had 
to  go  in  my  shirt-sleeves  to  do  it." 

"  Mr.  Rock,"  said  Annie  Lizzie,  "  you 
promised  me  you'd  tell  me  some  day  about 
those  images,  and  you  never.  What  do  they 
represent,  may  I  ask  ?  They  ain't  man  and 
wife,  be  they  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not !  "  said  Seth,  with  a  chuckle. 
"  I  never  heard  'em  jaw  each  other,  many 
times  as  I've  been  over  'em.  Tell  her  about 
'era,  Sale.  Annie  Lizzie,  you  set  down,  and 
he'll  tell  the  stories  now,  or,  if  he  won't,  I 
will." 

"  Sho !  "  said  Salem  Rock.  "  What's  the 
use  of  rakin'  up  old  stories?  These  two 


198  MBS.    TEEE^S    WILL 

figgers  have  set  here  so  long  they  don't  need 
no  stories;  they  jest  belong  here,  same  as 
the  trees  doos." 

"  But  I  love  stories,  Mr.  Rock !  "  said 
Annie  Lizzie,  in  her  soft,  pleading  voice. 
"  Do  tell  me,  Mr.  Rock,  now  please !  " 

She  sat  down  on  the  grass,  and  gathered 
her  pink  skirts  round  her:  she  might  have 
been  a  great,  soft  rose  dropped  on  the  green. 

"  Bile  in,  Salem !  "  said  Seth  Weaver. 
"  You  ain't  forgot,  have  ye  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XL 

SPINNING    YARNS 

"  N"o,  I  ain't  forgot,"  said  the  older  man, 
slowly ;  "  nor  like  to  forget." 

He  laid  his  brush  down  carefully  after 
a  critical  glance  at  "  Old  Sir's "  buttons. 

"  I  guess  mebbe  I'll  let  them  buttons  dry 
a  spell  before  I  put  on  the  last  co't,"  he  said. 
"  No,  I  ain't  forgot,  Seth ;  but  it  takes  a 
kind  of  a  h'ist  to  get  back  into  things  that 
seems  so  long  ago  you  kinder  think  they 
must  have  happened  to  somebodys  else  be 
side  yourself. 

"  Wai,  little  gal,  these  two  figgers  is  fig- 

gerheads,  you  see :  kem  off  two  ships  I  sailed 
199 


200  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

in  long  before  your  two  bright  eyes  opened 
on  to  this  world  of  sin  and  - 

"  Deestruction !  "  said  Seth  Weaver. 
"  Chirk  up  a  mite,  Salem !  This  ain't  a 
funeral,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  dono  but  'tis,  kind  of,"  said  Salem 
Rock,  soberly.  "  It's  amazin'  how  many 
folks  is  dead  and  buried  nowadays.  How 
soever,  them  was  two  good  ships,  the  Mer 
chant  Cap'n  and  the  White  Lady.  Old  Sir 
here,  he  come  off  the  Cap'n;  they  made 
her  over  into  a  barge,  and  I  begged  for  him, 
and  they  let  me  have  him.  The  builder 
meant  him  for  a  kind  of  compliment  to 
Cap'n  Tree ;  sing'lar  compliment,  /  used 
to  think.  Cap'n  Tree  was  a  pictur'  of  a 
man,  if  ever  I  sot  eyes  on  one,  and  Old  Sir 
always  resembled  a  wooden  image,  and  no 
special  reason  why  he  shouldn't. 

"  Wai,  I  took  my  fust  voyage  in  the  Mer 
chant  Cap'n;  I  was  cabin-boy,  and  Mis' 


SPINNING   YARNS  201 

Tree  was  along;  it  was  the  last  voyage  but 
one  they  took  together,  him  and  her,  and  I 
was  along  on  both.  Wai,  sir,  I  tell  you  'twas 
a  sight  to  see  them  two  sail  a  ship  together. 
He'd  taught  her  navigation,  and  she  took 
to  it  like  them  bees  to  that  rocket  yonder. 
She  was  as  good  a  navigator  as  ever  I  see. 
We  was  tradin'  round  Borneo  ways,  and  had 
laid  in  a  cargo  of  spices  and  truck,  and 
started  on  the  homeward  voyage.  Come  up 
a  hurricane,  and  blowed  us  clear'n  out  *of 
our  course;  went  on  blowin',  and  kep'  us 
hitherin'  and  thitherin'  for  three  days,  till 
We  didn't  know  where  we  was,  nor  hardly 
whether  we  was  in  this  world  at  all,  or  that 
part  of  the  next  that  we  wasn't  anyways 
particklar  about  bein'  in.  The  third  night 
of  it  was  the  wust,  and,  gorry!  I  tell  ye 
'twas  awful!  and  then  all  of  a  suddin,  like 
takin'  off  your  hat,  it  fell  dead  calm.  When 
mornin'  broke,  'twas  wnss  yet,  for  there  was 


202  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

land  dead  ahead,  and  the  Merchant  Cap'n 
driftin'  on  to  it  as  fast  as  tide  could  take 
her.  Wai,  Mis'  Tree  had  jest  come  up 
stairs,  and  I  tumbled  up  behind  her,  cur'us 
as  a  monkey,  same  as  all  boys  be.  She  looks 
at  the  land,  and  then  up  at  Cap'n,  that 
quick  way  she  had,  like  a  bird.  l  What  is 
it  ? '  she  says ;  and  Cap'n  says,  '  Solomon 
Islands ! ' 

"  I  hadn't  no  notion  what  that  meant ;  I 
thought  from  the  sound  it  might  be  some 
extry  fine  place,  like  the  Bible,  ye  know, 
cedars  of  Lebanon,  and  Queens  of  Sheby, 
and  like  that ;  but  Cap'n's  voice  had  a  queer 
sound  to  it,  and  I  looked  at  him,  and  he 
was  the  color  of  her  there ! "  he  nodded 
toward  the  white  image. 

"  Little  Mis'  Tree,  she  never  turned  a 
hair,  though  she  knew  what  I  didn't,  that 
them  islands  was  cannibal,  the  wust  sort, 
and  no  white  man  had  ever  come  off  'em 


SPINNING    TAENS  203 

inside  his  own  skin.  She  never  turned  a 
hair,  only  slid  her  mite  of  a  hand  into  his, 
and  said,  quiet-like :  '  We're  both  here, 
Ethan ! '  Cap'n  give  a  kind  of  groan.  '  I'd 
give  my  soul,  Marshy,'  he  says,  '  if  you  was 
safe  to  home ! '  She  stood  up  straight  — 
Jerusalem!  I  can  see  her  now;  'twas  like 
a  flame  risin',  near  as  I  can  put  it  —  and 
looks  him  in  the  face.  '  I  be  to  home !  '  she 
says;  that  was  every  word  she  said. 

"  Wai,  word  got  round  what  land  it  was, 
—  some  of  the  crew  had  been  that  way  be 
fore,  —  and  I  tell  ye  we  was  a  pooty  sick- 
lookin'  crew.  There  warn't  a  breath  o'  wind, 
nor  the  shadow  of  a  breath;  and  we  kep' 
on  a-driftin',  till  pooty  soon  we  could  see 
the  shore  plain,  and  black  savages  runnin' 
up  and  down,  holler  in',  and  wavin'  their 
arms.  They  see  us,  and  were  all  ready  for 
us;  and  pooty  soon  we  could  make  out  that 
they  was  pilin'  up  logs  o'  wood,  makin' 


204  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

fires  —  Seth,  what  in  time  made  you  start 
me  in  on  this  yarn  ?  'T ain't  no  kind  o'  thing 
for  this  gal  to  hear." 

Annie  Lizzie's  eyes  were  like  brown  stars, 
her  cheeks  like  Old  Sir's  carmine  stock. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Rock !  "  she  cried,  "  if  Mis'  Tree 
could  bear  it,  I  guess  I  can.  Please  go  on ! 
I  have  to  hear  the  rest.  And  besides,"  she 
added,  naively,  "  of  course  I  know  you 
wasn't  all  —  " 

She  paused. 

"  No,  we  wasn't  eat,"  said  Salem  Rock ; 
"  but  I  tell  ye,  little  gal,  we  was  as  near 
it  as  a  person  is  anyways  desirous  to  come. 
We  was  that  near,  we  see  them  critters  grin- 
nin'  their  white  teeth  at  us,  and  heard  their 
devils'  screechin'  and  chatterin'.  When  it 
got  to  that,  Cap'n  called  the  crew  aft,  and 
told  'em,  quiet  and  easy,  how  things  was. 

"  '  If  the  wind  comes  up  within  ten  min 
utes,'  he  says,  ( we  are  safe ;  if  not,  then 


SPINNING    YARNS  205 

we've  had  our  time  in  this  world,'  he  says, 
'  and  behoves  us  be  ready  for  another.  I 
see  no  reason,  and  Mis'  Tree  sees  no  reason, 
why  we  should  go  in  that  beastly  fashion 
yonder,'  he  says,  pointin'  to  the  yellin'  sav 
ages  ;  '  and  therefore  I  have  give  my  orders, 
and  before  we  touch  that  shore  the  doctor 
will  serve  an  extry  grog,  that  will  take  you 
through  sleep  to  the  presence  of  your  Maker, 
and  may  He  have  mercy  on  your  souls  and 
mine ! ' 

"  '  Amen ! '  says  Mis'  Tree,  clear  and 
crips;  and  I  see  she  had  a  little  bottle  in 
her  hand,  holdin'  it  tight,  and  the  other 
hand  in  Cap'n's.  Jerusalem  !  she  had  grit ! 

"  Wai,  there  was  no  words  said.  'Twas 
a  good  crew,  'most  all  of  'em  Quahaug  men ; 
your  father  was  one  of  'em,  Seth." 

Seth  nodded  gravely. 

"  But  we  got  together  forrard,  and 
watched  the  shore,  and  Cap'n  and  Mis' 


206  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Tree  stood  aft  and  kep'  their  eye  on  the 
wind. 

"  That  shore  come  nearer;  it  come  nearer 
than  was  anyways  comfortable.  I  warn't 
nothin'  but  a  boy,  and  I  can  remember  won- 
derin'  whether  the  folks  to  home  would  ever 
know,  and  whether  Cap'n  would  write  the 
story  and  put  it  in  a  bottle,  same  as  in  books 
I'd  read;  and  what'd  become  of  the  ship, 
and  the  little  monkey  I  was  tamin'  for  my 
sister.  And  then  —  then  somebody  sung  out 
something  and  I  turned  round;  and  there 
stood  Cap'n  Tree,  with  the  tears  runnin' 
over  his  face,  and  his  arm  up,  p'intin'  at 
the  pennon  on  the  masthead. 

"  '  'Bout  ship !  '  he  says ;  and  that  same 
moment  come  a  puff  o'  wind  from  the  shore ; 
and  then  pooty  soon  another;  and  then  the 
land-breeze  set  in  good  and  steady. 

"  The  helmsman  put  her  about,  and  she 
come  round  with  a  dip  and  a  sweep  like  a 


SPINNING    YAENS  207 

dancin'  lady,  and  went  curtseyin'  off  over 
the  waves  —  you  never  see  a  sight  like  that, 
little  gal,  nor  never  will  see. 

"  '  Let  us  give  thanks  to  Almighty  God !  ' 
says  Cap'n  Tree;  and  we  give  'em,  kneelin' 
on  the  deck." 

Salem  Eock  drew  a  long  breath,  and  took 
up  his  brush  again. 

"  There !  "  he  said.  "  You've  had  your 
story,  Annie  Lizzie.  I  dono  as  it's  a  very 
pooty  one,  but  truth  ain't  allers  pooty,  I've 
noticed." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  wonderful  story,  Mr.  Rock !  " 
cried  little  Annie  Lizzie.  "  I  thank  you  a 
thousand  times  for  tellin'  me.  But  ain't  you 
goin'  to  tell  the  other  one,  too,  about  the 
lady?  Please,  Mr.  Eock!" 

"  I  guess  not !  "  said  Salem.  "  I  guess 
I'm  jaw-weary  for  this  time." 

"  No,  you  ain't,"  said  Seth  Weaver. 
"  Take  more'n  that  to  jaw-weary  you,  Sale, 


208  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

with  the  practice  you  have,"  and  he  cast  a 
cautious  glance  at  the  house.  "  Let  the 
little  gal  hev  the  other  story  if  she  wants 
it.  Fust  thing  we  know  you  and  me'll  be 
to  Kingdom  Come,  and  who's  to  tell  the 
stories  then  ?  The  young  folks  ought  to 
know  'em,  too;  this  one  special.  Bile  in, 
old  hoss !  " 

Salem  Rock  drew  another  long  breath. 
"  You  tell  her  about  the  spar  yonder,"  he 
said,  "  while  I  third-co't  these  buttons ;  I've 
got  to  give  my  mind  to  'em.  I  ain't  the 
only  man  ever  was  to  sea,  Annie  Lizzie :  you 
sick  him  on  to  spin  you  that  yarn,  and  then 
we'll  see." 

"  Sho !  "  said  Seth.  "  Ain't  no  story  to 
that.  All  about  it,  Sale  and  me  was  both 
shipwrecked  one  time,  —  'twas  after  Cap'n 
Tree  was  dead,  —  and  us  two  and  that  spar 
was  all  that  come  ashore.  Now  go  'long, 
and  let  her  hear  about  the  White  Lady,  and 


SPINNING   YAEN8  209 

let  the  buttons  go  to  Tinkham  and  see  the 
sights." 

Salem  Rock  cast  a  glance  of  affectionate 
comprehension  at  his  companion.  It  was 
little  less  than  heroic  for  Seth  Weaver,  the 
best  story-teller  in  Qauhaug,  thus  to  break 
and  knot  up  his  favorite  yarn,  the  proper 
spinning  of  which  took  a  good  half -hour; 
but  it  was  very  rarely  that  Salem  Rock  could 
be  brought  to  tell  these  two  sea  tales,  and 
Seth  was  a  good  friend  and  a  good  listener. 

So,  when  he  repeated  "  Go  'long !  "  Salem 
nodded,  and  laid  down  his  brush  again. 

"  It's  easy  to  see  you're  doin'  this  job 
by  the  day,"  he  said.  "  I  dono  as  Mis' 
Weight'll  ever  get  them  stairs  done  at  this 
rate.  Wai,  if  I've  gotter,  I've  gotter,  I 
s'pose.  Up  anchor  and  square  away,  hey  ? 
Wai,  her  there,"  he  nodded  toward  the 
White  Lady,  "  was  figgerhead  and  likeness, 
fur  as  I  know,  to  the  White  Lady  of  Ave- 


210  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

nel,  full-rigged  ship,  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
tons,  Ethan  Tree  master  and  owner.  She 
was  a  clipper,  the  White  Lady  was,  if  ever 
such  sailed  the  seas.  Old  Marm  here  is  a 
fine-appearin'  woman,  fur  as  she  goes,"  — 
he  indicated  by  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  in 
completeness  which  marred  the  perfect  sym 
metry  of  the  figure,  —  "  but  she  ain't  to  be 
named  within  a  week  of  the  vessel  herself. 
Mis'  Tree  named  her  out  of  a  book  she'd 
ben  readin',  —  she  was  a  great  reader,  — 
and  had  her  all  painted  white,  not  a  dark 
spot  on  her;  I  tell  ye,  she  was  a  sightly 
vessel.  So  we  sailed  for  Singapore,  and  I 
was  second  mate  then,  and  prouder  than  ary 
peacock  ever  strutted,  because  I  was  young 
for  the  berth,  ye  see,  and  Cap'n  promoted 
me  for  efficiency,  so  he  said.  Had  a  good 
voyage,  and  discharged  our  cargo,  and  loaded 
up  again  with  coffee  and  raw  silk,  and  off  for 
home.  Wai,  sir,  all  went  as  it  should  the 


SPINNING   YARNS  211 

fust  few  weeks,  though  I  was  none  too  well 
pleased  with  the  make-up  of  the  crew.  That 
is  to  say,  most  of  'em  was  all  right,  or  would 
have  ben  if  they'd  ben  let  alone;  but  two 
of  'em  was  strangers,  picked  up  at  Singapore, 
where  two  of  our  men  died  of  jungle  fever; 
and  the  fust  mate  broke  his  leg,  ridin'  a  fool 
four-legged  hoss,  and  had  to  be  left  in  hos 
pital  ;  so  we  was  both  short-handed  and  left- 
handed,  as  you  might  say. 

"  Still  we  got  on,  and  mebbe  we  might 
have  come  through  all  right,  but  then  Cap'n 
took  sick.  I  think  he  got  some  kind  o'  ma 
laria  p'ison  ashore,  and  Mis'  Tree  thought 
so,  too:  anyway,  he  was  terrible  sick,  and 
she  nussed  him,  and  run  the  ship,  her  and 
me  together.  She  was  allers  good  to  me, 
ever  sence  she  bought  my  mud  pie  when  I 
was  no  more'n  a  baby;  and  we  had  good 
weather,  and  so  things  went  from  day  to 
day  after  a  fashion. 


212  MRS,    TEEE'S    WILL 

"  But  them  two  strangers,  they  was  ugly, 
grumble-groan  kind  of  fellers,  lookin'  for 
trouble.  You  mind  me,  Annie  Lizzie;  a 
man  that's  lookin'  for  trouble  will  find  it, 
if  he  has  to  break  the  eggs  from  under  a 
settin'  hen  to  get  at  it.  The  minute  these 
two  fellers  heard  Cap'n  was  sick,  they  see 
their  chance,  and  they  commenced  workin' 
on  the  men,  talkin'  of  'em  round,  and  makin' 
'em  think  they  was  abused.  You  mind  this, 
too,  little  gal;  you  tell  a  man  often  enough 
that  he's  got  a  crick  in  his  back,  and  he'll 
come  to  think  it's  broke,  and  go  hollerin' 
to  raise  the  roof  for  a  plaster  to  mend  it. 
Same  way  with  our  men :  some  of  'em,  that 
is.  There  was  others  that  was  all  right, 
and  stayed  all  right,  but  yet,  you  know  how 
'tis:  when  there's  two-three  bad  ones  in  a 
crew,  it  makes  trouble  all  through,  some- 
ways." 

Seth  nodded  sympathetically.     "  Same  as 


SPINNING   YARNS  213 

a  drop  o'  paint'll  rile  a  hull  pail  o'  water; 
or  take  it  t'other  way  round,  a  spoonful  o' 
water '11  spile  a  hull  can  o'  paint." 

"  That's  so !  "  said  Salem  Rock,  gravely. 
"  He  and  water,  good  and  evil ;  the  Lord 
can  mix  'em  so  they'll  make  a  good  wearin' 
color,  but  the  hand  of  man  cannot  so  do. 
Wai,  come  one  day,  Cap'n  was  so  *bad,  Mis' 
Tree  didn't  leave  his  side  all  the  mornin' ; 
and  I  was  busy  with  the  log,  and  one  thing 
and  another,  and,  all  about  it,  these  fellers 
thought  they  see  their  chance  to  hatch  up 
a  mutiny.  There  was  a  big  feller  in  the 
crew,  Bob  Moon  his  name  was;  a  good  sea 
man,  but  he  warn't  more'n  half  there  in  his 
upper  story.  He'd  had  a  block  drop  on  his 
head,  and  it  kind  o'  mixed  his  idees  so  they 
never  got  straight.  He  was  sort  o'  gormin' 
and  gappin'  most  of  the  time,  and  he'd  go 
anyways  any  person  had  a  mind  to  head 
him,  and  go  hard,  for  he  had  the  stren'th 


214  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

of  a  bull  and  the  mule-headedness  of  a  — 
of  a  mule.  Wai,  these  fellers  —  Faulkner 
and  Higgins  their  names  was  —  they  got 
holt  of  Bob  and  two-three  others,  and  give 
'em  to  understand  now  was  their  time. 
Oap'n  sick,  and  her  tendin'  of  him,  and  me 
nothin'  but  second  mate;  and  they  allowed 
they'd  ruther  stop  at  the  Azores  and  drop 
us  three  there,  and  go  off  with  the  vessel, 
tradin'  on  their  own  account.  See  ?  quite 
a  pooty  plot  they  hatched  up;  might  ha' 
ben  a  story-book.  But  they  got  holt  of  the 
wrong  stick  when  they  tackled  Ben  Gray, 
the  ship's  carpenter.  Ben  was  a  straight 
stick  of  white  pine  timber  as  ever  I  see.  He 
give  'em  a  smooth  answer;  said  he'd  think 
it  over,  and  let  'em  know,  and  he  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  there  was  considerable  in 
what  they  said,  and  like  that;  and  then  he 
come  hotfoot  and  told  me  every  word,  and 
what  should  we  do?  I  took  him  straight 


SPINNING   YARNS  215 

down  to  the  cabin,  and  called  Mis'  Tree  to 
the  door  and  told  her.  She  looked  us  right 
through,  as  if  she  was  countin'  the  j'ints  in 
our  back-bones.  '  Are  most  of  the  men 
straight  ? '  she  says.  So  we  told  her  how 
'twas,  most  of  'em  was  all  right  at  bottom, 
but  yet  they'd  got  sorter  warpled  through 
these  fellers  workin'  on  'em,  and  we  was 
feared  there  might  be  trouble.  She  studied 
a  bit,  still  sarchin'  us  with  them  black  eyes 
of  her'n  —  gorry  !  seemed  as  though  I  could 
feel  my  soul  rustlin'  round  uneasy  inside 
me.  Then  she  give  us  our  orders,  quick  and 
quiet,  and  not  too  many  of  'em ;  and  we  went 
off,  and  1'itered  up  on  deck  separate,  and  I 
sot  down  behind  one  of  the  bo'ts,  nigh  hand 
to  the  companion,  and  coiled  rope.  It  was 
Bob  Moon's  watch  on  deck,  and  he  was 
hunchin'  round,  mutterin'  and  growlin',  and 
I  could  see  he  was  workin'  himself  up  to 
somethin'.  'Twarn't  a  gre't  while  before  up 


216  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

comes  Ben  Gray,  and  with  him  Faulkner, 
one  of  the  two  grumble-groans,  talkin' 
mighty  earnest.  l  Here ! '  says  Ben.  '  Here's 
Bob  Moon  this  minute.  He's  safe,  ain't 
he?' 

"  '  Bet  yer  life,'  says  Faulkner.  '  He's 
all  pie  for  us !  '  he  says ;  '  ain't  yer,  Bob  ? ' 
and  Bob  hunches  himself  and  rubs  his  big 
hands,  and  allows  he'll  fix  things  to  beat 
creation  once  he  gits  started. 

"  l  You  tell  him,  then,'  says  Ben,  l  what 
you've  jest  told  me,  and  mebbe  we  can  run 
it  off  to-night,'  he  says. 

"  Moon  was  sittin'  on  the  hatchway,  with 
his  back  to  the  stairs,  and  Faulkner  squats 
down  beside  him  and  commences  dealin'  out 
to  him  what  he  proposed ;  and  Gray  stood 
back  a  leetle  mite,  and  I  peeked  round  the 
eend  of  the  bo't. 

"  Then  —  we  never  heerd  a  sound ;  but, 
all  in  a  minute,  there  was  Mis'  Tree  standin' 


SPINNING   YARNS  217 

behind  them  two,  close  up.  They  was  both 
men  that  had  hair,  Bob  with  a  curl  on  him 
like  a  mattress,  and  t'other  a  kind  o'  thick 
tousle  like  a  yeller  dog's.  That  little  woman 
never  spoke,  but  she  took  those  two  by  the 
hair  —  twisted  her  little  hands  in  and  got  a 
good  holt  —  and  brought  their  two  heads  to 
gether  with  a  crack  —  Jerusalem  !  'twas  like 
a  pistol-shot!  Every  man  on  board  jumped, 
and  come  runnin'  to  see  what  was  up;  but 
them  two  never  stirred,  jest  sot  there :  their 
wits  was  clean  jarred  out  of  'em.  Then  Mis' 
Tree  spoke  up,  clear  and  crips;  she  never 
hollered,  she  no  need,  her  voice  carried  like 
a  trumpet. 

"  '  Mr.  Rock,'  she  says,  t  put  this  man  in 
irons,  and  George  Higgins  the  same.  Bob 
Moon,  you  come  with  me;  I  want  you  to 
nurse  Cap'n  for  me.  The  rest  go  to  your 
quarters.' 

"  She  took  holt  of  Bob's  collar  —  he  was 


218  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

nearer  seven  foot  than  six,  and  had  the 
brea'th  of  an  ox  —  and  give  a  little  h'ist, 
and  he  come  up  like  he  was  a  rag  dolly. 
1  Come  along,  Bob,'  she  says,  '  Cap'n  wants 
you,'  and  she  marched  him  off  like  Mary 
had  a  little  lamb,  and  he  nussed  Cap'n  like 
his  own  mother  from  that  hour.  Further 
and  moreover,  he  got  his  wits  back  likewise 
from  that  hour.  Yes,  sir,  he  did  so.  'Feared 
as  if  one  blow  had  shook  his  brains  one  way, 
and  the  next  shook  'em  back  the  other;  I 
expect  there  wasn't  enough  of  'em  to  fill  his 
head  solid,  so  they  wouldn't  travel.  And 
that  man  nussed  Cap'n,  and  follered  Mis' 
Tree  like  a  span'el  dog  the  rest  of  the  voy- 
age." 

"  But  what  become  of  those  two  mean 
men,  Mr.  Rock  ?  "  asked  Annie  Lizzie,  who 
had  followed  the  story  with  breathless  in 
terest.  "  Did  they  make  any  more  trou 
ble?" 


SPINNING   YARNS  219 

"  Not  a  mite !  "  said  Salem  Rock.  "  They 
was  put  in  irons,  and  so  remained  till  we 
come  to  the  Azores,  and  there  we  left  'em, 
though  not  so  agreeable  to  their  wishes  as 
the  way  they  had  planned.  It  seemed  they 
belonged  there,  and  was  wanted  for  various 
causes;  so  we  left  'em  in  the  calaboose  and 
come  away.  But  for  Cap'n's  bein'  so  poorly, 
I'd  never  ask  for  a  better  voyage.  The  men 
was  like  pie,  every  man  Jack  of  'em,  and 
if  Mis'  Tree  wanted  to  wipe  her  shoes,  there 
warn't  ary  one  but  would  have  ben  proud 
to  be  her  door-mat.  Yes,  sir;  that  was  a 
great  voyage  —  till  it  come  to  the  eend." 

He  was  silent ;  and  Annie  Lizzie,  thinking 
the  tale  was  over,  made  a  motion  to  rise, 
but  Seth  checked  her  with  a  silent  gesture. 

"  Go  on,  Sale,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  Fin 
ish  up,  now  you're  about  it." 

"  There  ain't  but  a  little  more,"  said  the 
old  sailor,  speaking  half  to  himself.  "  It 


220  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

behoved  to  be  a  good  voyage,  for  it  was  the 
last.  Cap'n  fit  hard,  and  she  fit  for  him, 
but  'twas  not  so  to  be.  The  p'ison,  or  what 
ever  'twas,  had  got  too  strong  a  holt  on  him ; 
he  couldn't  shake  it.  But  yet  for  awhile, 
when  we  was  nearin'  home,  he  seemed  to 
gain  up  a  mite,  and  would  come  up  on  deck, 
and  set  and  see  her  take  the  observation,  and 
pass  the  time  of  day  with  the  boys.  Looked 
like  his  shadow,  he  did,  and  white  as  his 
shirt  under  the  tan;  but  his  courage  was 
good,  and  he  was  allers  say  in'  he'd  get  well 
so  soon  as  he  was  to  home. 

"  '  Home,  Marshy ! '  he'd  say.  *  We'll  be 
there  soon,  little  woman ! ' 

"  And  she'd  nod  and  smile,  and  say  they 
would  so,  sure  enough;  and  Bob  Moon'd  go 
off  and  cry  behind  a  bo't.  I  punched  his 
head  good  every  time  I  co't  him  at  it,  fear 
they'd  notice,  but  I  don't  think  they  did, 
they  was  wropped  up  in  each  other. 


SPINNING   YARNS  221 

"  Wai,  at  last  and  finally,  sure  enough  we 
sighted  Quahaug  P'int.  It  was  a  fine  day, 
I  ric'llect,  south  by  west,  clear  and  warm; 
pretty  a  day  as  ever  I  see.  Cap'n  was  on 
deck,  and  he  was  mighty  weak  that  day. 
His  voice  was  no  more'n  a  whisper,  but  yet 
cheerful,  you  understand,  and  he  had  a  word 
for  every  one  that  come  by,  and  we  all  made 
out  to  come  by,  one  errant  or  another.  She 
was  sittin'  beside  him,  fannin'  him,  and 
talkin'  away  easy  and  pleasant,  tellin'  how 
that  they'd  be  in  soon  now,  and  Lucy  — 
that  was  Mis'  Blyth,  their  daughter,  Arthur's 
mother  —  would  be  comin'  from  the  West 
to  visit  'em,  and  all;  and  Cap'n  listened, 
and  seemed  real  pleased,  and  put  in  a  word 
now  and  again. 

"  I  was  standin'  close  by,  makin'  believe 
tinker  somethin',  —  I  was  allers  nigh  hand 
them  days,  case  o'  need,  —  when  the  lookout 
says,  '  Quahaug  P'int  in  sight,  Cap'n ! '  and 


222  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

we  looked,  and  there  it  was,  sure  enough, 
and  the  sun  goin'  down  behind  it,  and  the 
water  all  the  likeness  of  gold  in  between. 
Oap'n  raised  his  head,  and  begun  to  talk 
sudden  and  quick.  i  Marshy,'  he  says,  '  I 
couldn't  find  a  pineapple  this  mornin','  he 
says ;  '  but  here's  custard-apples  and  turtles' 
eggs ;  we'll  manage  to  make  out  a  breakfast/ 
he  says.  I  looked  up  at  him,  and  his  eyes 
were  bright  as  lamps,  and  his  cheeks  like 
fire.  Mis'  Tree  put  her  hand  on  his  arm, 
quiet  like.  '  That's  just  as  good,  Ethan,' 
she  says.  '  Them's  beautiful,'  she  says ;  '  I 
was  gettin'  kinder  tired  of  pineapples.' 
Then  he  goes  on,  sort  o'  like  talkin'  to  him 
self.  '  True  blue,  little  Marshy ! '  he  says. 
'  True  blue,  little  wife !  we'll  get  home  yet ; 
safe  home,  safe  home ! ' 

"  Then  all  of  a  suddent  he  riz  up  to  his 
feet,  stood  up  every  inch  of  him,  —  he  was 


SPINNING   YAENS  223 

a  tall  man,  —  and  stands  lookin'  out  for- 
rard.  '  Sail  ho ! '  he  says,  *  sail  ho !  we'll  see 
home  again,  home !  '  and  he  dropped  back 
in  her  arms,  and  his  sperit  passed." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

MISS    WAX    AT    HOME 

Miss  BETHIA  WAX  was  at  work  one  after 
noon,  bending  over  her  little  round  table, 
busily  plaiting  a  hair  chain,  when  she  heard 
her  front  door  open.  She  looked  up  in  some 
disturbance,  for  Phoebe,  the  little  maid,  was 
out,  and  there  were  few  visitors,  since  Mrs. 
Stedman  died,  with  whom  she  was  on 
"  run-in  "  terms :  her  disturbance  was  not 
lessened  when  the  billowy  form  of  Mrs.  Mal- 
vina  Weight  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Malvina,"  said  Miss 
Wax,  rather  coldly.  "  I  heard  no  knock ; 
I  trust  you  have  not  been  kept  waiting.  My 
domestic  is  out." 

224 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  225 

"  Yes,  I  see  her  go  past  the  house,"  said 
the  visitor,  "  and  I  thought  I'd  jest  make 
a  run-in.  How  are  you  feelin',  Bethia  ? 
You're  lookin'  re'l  poorly.  I  noticed  it  in 
meetin'  last  Sabbath.  I  said  to  myself,  '  That 
woman  is  goin'  jest  the  way  all  her  fam'ly 
has,  and  she  the  last  of  'em.  As  a  friend 
of  the  fam'ly,'  I  said,  '  it's  my  dooty  to  warn 
her ' ;  and  so  I  do." 

Mrs.  Weight  sat  down,  and  fanned  herself 
with  a  small  and  rather  dingy  pocket-hand 
kerchief. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Miss 
Bethia.  "  I  am  in  my  usual  health,  Mal- 
vina,  though  I  am  never  very  robust.  I 
was  always  delicate,  as  you  may  say,  but  yet 
I  don't  know  but  I  have  held  my  own  with 
others  of  my  age.  Flesh  isn't  always  a  sign 
of  health,"  she  added,  not  without  a  touch 
of  gentle  malice. 

"  I   expect  I   am   aware  of  that !  "   cried 


226  MBS.    TEEE'S   WILL 

Mrs.  Weight.  "  I  expect  there's  few  knows 
the  frailness  that  comes  with  layin'  on  flesh. 
What  I  suffer  nights  is  beyond  the  power  of 
tongue  to  tell.  But  all  the  more  it  behoves 
me,  as  the  widder  of  a  sainted  man  and  dea 
con  of  this  parish,  to  do  my  dooty  by  others ; 
and  I  ask  you,  Bethia  Wax,  if  you  are  doc- 
torin'  any." 

"  I  am  not,"  said  Miss  Bethia,  dryly. 

"  Well,  you  ought  so  to  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Weight,  impressively.  "  It  come  to  me  right 
in  meetin',  when  I  ought  to  have  ben  lis- 
tenin'  to  the  sermon,  —  though  the  land 
knows  I  have  hard  work  to  listen  sometimes, 
the  sort  o'  talk  Elder  Bliss  gives  us:  Gos 
pel's  well  enough,  but  a  person  wants  some 
doctrine,  and  it  don't  set  good,  any  way, 
shape,  or  manner,  for  a  man  of  his  years 
to  be  the  everlastin'  time  tellin'  them  as 
might  be  his  mothers  that  they'd  oughter  do 
thus  and  so.  I  was  leadin'  in  prayer  when 


11188   WAX  AT  HOME  227 

Elder  Bliss  was  a  bottle-baby,  at  least  he 
looks  it  if  ever  I  see  one.  But  what  I  started 
in  to  say  Was,  it  come  over  me  all  of  a  sud- 
dent  that  what  you  wanted  was  a  bottle  of 
my  spring  med'cine,  and  so  I  brought  you 
one." 

She   produced   a   bottle   from   under  her 
shawl,  and  set  it  on  the  table  with  a  defiant 


air. 
tt 


I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Malvina," 
Miss  Wax  began ;  but  Mrs.  Weight  went  on 
impressively. 

"  Now  you  want  to  take  that  med'cine, 
Bethia  Wax!  You  want  to  take  a  gre't 
spoonful  with  your  victuals,  and  in  be 
tween  your  victuals.  You  take  three  bot 
tles  of  that  remedy,  and  you  won't  know 
yourself  for  the  same  woman.  If  you're  a 
mind  to  pay  me  fifty  cents  for  this  bottle 
and  sixty  for  the  next  two  (that's  thirty 
cents  apiece,  three  spoonfuls  for  a  cent,  less 


228  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

than  half  what  you'd  pay  for  any  boughten 
stuff),  you  may,  and,  if  not,  it's  all  ekal 
to  me;  the  Lord  will  provide.  He  feeds 
the  ravens  when  they  call,  and  I've  never 
had  no  doubts  of  bein'  one,  far  as  I'm  con 
cerned." 

Mrs.  Weight  here  drew  a  long  and  deep 
breath,  settled  herself  deeper  in  her  chair, 
and  took  a  fresh  start. 

"  So  now  that's  off  my  mind,  and  my 
dooty  done,  whether  it's  ordered  that  you 
should  remain,  or  pass  away  same  as  your 
folks  has  done.  Now,  there's  another  thing 
I  come  to  speak  about.  Be  you  goin'  to 
march  in  this  procession  ? " 

Miss  Wax  colored  painfully.  "  I  have 
not  decided,  Malvina,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
considering  the  matter.  Mr.  Pindar  Hollo- 
peter  has  invited  me  to  appear  as  —  as 
Minerva  —  " 

"There!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Weight.     "I 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  229 

knew  it.  I  felt  it  in  these  bones !  "  She 
indicated  the  spaces  which  veiled  her  anat 
omy.  "  I  felt  certing  to  my  inwards  that 
this  would  end  in  pagan  blasphemy,  and  so 
it  has.  Oh,  that  I  should  live  to  see  jedg- 
ment  on  this  village,  as  I've  lived  in,  and 
my  fathers  before  me,  sence  — 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Malvina," 
Miss  Wax  interrupted,  with  some  warmth. 
"  The  Mr.  Hollopeters  are  Christian  men, 
I  believe;  at  least,  I  know  Homer  is,  and 
I've  never  heard  anything  to  the  contrary 
about  Pindar." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  anything  about 
Pindar,  anyway  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Weight,  her 
little  eyes  gleaming.  "  Do  you,  or  doos  any 
one  in  this  village  know,  how  or  where  that 
man  has  ben  livin'  these  thirty  years  past? 
He  never  was  one  to  hide  his  light  under  a 
booshel,  if  he  had  any  to  hide.  Don't  tell 
me,  Bethia  Wax!  For  thirty  years  Pindar 


230  MBS.    TREE'S   WILL 

Hollopeter  has  ben  livin'  let  them  know 
how  as  he  serves,  and  never  a  cent,  nor  so 
much  as  a  breathin'  word  for  the  place  that 
give  him  birth.  But  direckly  he  hears  that 
Mis'  Tree  has  passed  away,  and  left  her 
money  to  Homer,  and  Satan's  own  words  and 
works  in  regards  to  changin'  the  name  of 
this  —  " 

Miss  Bethia  interrupted  her  again, 
promptly.  "  Malvina,"  she  said,  firmly,  "  I 
have  told  you  before,  and  I  tell  you  again, 
that  no  word  disrespectful  to  Mrs.  Tree  shall 
be  spoken  in  this  house.  There  is  no  need 
of  bringing  her  into  this  matter  at  all ;  but 
I  should  like  to  know  why  you  call  the  Fes 
tival  Procession  pagan." 

"  And  ain't  it  pagan  ? "  cried  Mrs. 
Weight,  leaning  forward,  her  hands  on  her 
knees.  "  Ain't  you  jest  told  me  with  your 
own  lips,  Bethia  Wax,  that  he  asked  you, 
a  church-member  in  reg'lar  standin',  to  strut 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  231 

and  stomp  as  a  heathen  goddess,  in  heathen 
clo'es  ?  Ain't  that  enough  ?  Hasn't  he  got 
all  the  girls  in  this  village  takin'  their  Mas' 
best  sheets  and  table-cloths  and  sewin'  of  'em 
up  to  make  toonics  for  muses  and  graces 
and  all  sich  pagan  trollops?  Ain't  that 
enough?  Do  you  think  sheets  is  fit  and 
suitable  clo'es  for  church-members  ?  or 
table-cloths  ?  And  'tain't  as  if  he  hadn't  ben 
shown  a  better  path.  '  Pindar/  I  said,  when 
he  come  to  see  about  Annie  Lizzie,  ( you 
get  up  an  Old  Folks'  Concert,'  I  says,  '  and 
I'll  be  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  for  ye,'  I 
says.  I  had  that  red,  white,  and  blue  buntin', 
you  know,  that  we  hired  for  the  Centennial. 
Some  of  it  was  damaged,  and  the  man 
wouldn't  take  it  back,  and  it's  ben  in  my 
attic  ever  sence;  and  I  thought  'twould  be 
a  good  way  to  use  it  up,  and  help  him  out 
at  the  same  time.  Why,  Bethia,  that  man 
looked  at  me  —  why,  I  believe  he's  ravin' 


232  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

distracted;  he  poured  out  a  string  o'  stuff 
that  hadn't  no  sense  or  meanin'  in  it;  and 
then  said,  '  Shakespeare,'  as  if  that  made  it 
any  better.  Deacon  never  would  have  Shake 
speare's  works  in  the  house ;  he  said  they 
was  real  vulgar,  and  that  was  enough  for 
me.  So  he  see  I  was  real  indignant,  and 
he  blinked  his  eyes  and  spoke  up  and  said 
I  might  be  a  Roman  matron  if  I  was  a  mind 
to.  But  I  says,  l  No,  sir !  '  I  says.  '  I  am 
an  American  lady,  and  the  widder  of  a 
sainted  man,  and  I  am  not  goin'  travellin' 
and  traipsin'  in  heathen  and  publican  clo'es, 
whatever  others  may  do ! '  and  so  I  come 
away,  and  left  him  flappin'  there  on  the  door 
steps.  He's  ravin'  crazy,  Pindar  Hollopeter 
is;  he'd  oughter  be  shut  up.  And  I  told 
Annie  Lizzie  she  shouldn't  have  anything  to 
do  with  it  in  any  way,  shape,  or  manner. 
She's  ben  bawlin'  all  day  about  it,  but  I  tell 
her  I  didn't  take  her  out  of  the  street  to 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  233 

have  her  rigged  out  with  wings.  If  she'd 
think  of  her  end,  I  tell  her,  and  how  she 
can  aim  a  pair  to  walk  the  golden  streets 
with,  it  would  set  he?-  better.  Well,  I  must 
be  goin',  Bethia;  I  only  run  in  jest  for  a 
minute.  Now  I  hope  you'll  take  that  med'- 
cine  reg'lar,  and  benefit  by  it.  I  couldn't 
answer  to  Deacon  when  I  meet  him  in  glory 
if  I  hadn't  done  my  dooty  to  them  as  is 
neighbors  to  me,  specially  when  they  look 
as  gashly  as  you  do,  Bethia;  but  I'm  in 
hopes  we've  taken  it  in  time,  and  you  may 
be  spared.  Good  day !  " 

The  visitor  gone,  Miss  Wax  heaved  a  sigh 
of  relief,  and  tried  to  settle  to  her  work 
again;  but  it  would  not  do.  Her  mind  had 
been  disturbed,  and,  as  she  often  said,  her 
profession  required  calm.  The  hand  must 
be  steady,  the  nerves  tranquil,  or  the  delicate 
strands  would  twist  and  knot;  and  now  her 
long,  slim  fingers  were  trembling,  and  the 


234  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

silken  threads  danced  before  her  eyes.  "  I 
must  give  it  up  for  to-day,"  said  Miss  Bethia, 
sadly;  and  she  put  aw.ay  the  little  table, 
and  took  out  a  clean  silk  duster. 

A  parlor  must  be  dusted  twice  in  the  day, 
according  to  Miss  Wax's  theory :  once  in  the 
morning,  to  remove  the  night's  accumula 
tion  of  dust,  and  again  toward  evening,  to 
take  up  such  particles  of  the  evil  thing  as 
had  settled  during  the  day  on  chair  or  table, 
book  or  ornament.  The  morning  task  was 
an  anxious  one,  and  apt  to  be  complicated 
by  fears  of  the  coffee's  boiling  over;  but 
the  afternoon  dusting  was  one  of  the  good 
lady's  pleasures,  and  she  took  her  time  over 
it.  She  loved  to  linger  over  the  glass  cases, 
polishing  them,  admiring  the  treasures  they 
protected,  and  recalling  the  circumstances  of 
their  making.  It  was  pleasant  to  accompany 
her,  as  one  was  sometimes  permitted  to  do, 
on  one  of  these  friendly  rounds. 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  235 

"  These  pond-lilies,"  she  would  say,  "  were 
a  wedding  present  to  my  cousin  Cilissa  Vin- 
ton,  deceased.  They  were  admired  by  some ; 
Cilissa  thought  they  were  real,  and  wished 
to  wear  them  in  her  hair.  After  her  la 
mented  death  (of  spasms),  the  family  re 
turned  them  to  me  as  a  memento.  That 
spray  of  roses  is  made  of  feathers,  the  breast- 
feathers  of  the  domestic  goose.  I  never 
allowed  them  to  be  plucked  from  the  living 
bird,  my  dear!  I  used  to  wear  them  in 
my  hair ;  some  thought  the  contrast  pretty." 
And  Miss  Bethia  would  sigh  gently,  and 
glance  at  the  long  mirror,  which  reflected 
her  tall  and  angular  gentility. 

But  this  afternoon  the  good  lady's  thoughts 
were  not  reminiscent.  As  she  stood  before 
the  rosewood  "  what-not,"  lifting  each  arti 
cle,  wiping  it,  and  replacing  it  with  delicate 
nicety  (I  can  see  them  all:  the  two  man 
darins,  the  china  baby  in  the  bath-tub,  — 


236  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

you  could  take  him  out!  the  whole  thing 
would  go  into  a  walnut-shell,  —  the  pink- 
and-gold  Dresden  shepherd  and  shepherdess, 
the  Chinese  puzzles,  and  all  the  other  quaint 
pleasantnesses),  it  was  of  to-day  rather  than 
yesterday  that  Miss  Bethia  was  thinking. 
Should  she  —  could  she  —  walk  in  a  public 
procession  attired  as  Minerva  ?  She  put 
aside  with  an  inward  shudder  Mrs.  Weight's 
characterization  of  the  possible  performance. 
She,  Bethia  Wax,  could  not  "  strut  and 
stomp  "  if  she  tried.  Her  walk  was  grace 
ful,  as  she  was  well  aware ;  in  her  youth 
she  had  been  said  to  glide. 

"  As  a  swan  o'er  the  water, 
Quahaug's  fairy  daughter 
In  majesty  maiden  doth  glide ; 
May  the  day  Wax  and  wane 
When  the  sighs  of  her  swain 
May  waft  her  to  bliss  as  a  bride  !  " 

Homer  Hollopeter  had  written  that  in  her 
album  at  a  time  when  she  and  Pindar  were 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  237 

—  oh,  no !  not  engaged,  certainly  not ;  only 
very  good  friends.  Homer,  she  was  aware, 
had  regarded  her  as  a  sister,  had  wished  — 
but  she  never  laid  it  up  against  Mary;  no, 
indeed !  Who  could  wonder  at  any  one's 
falling  in  love  with  Mary? 

And  now,  after  all  the  years,  Pindar  had 
come  back;  still  an  elegant  man,  Miss  Wax 
thought,  though  nervous,  to  be  sure,  sadly 
nervous.  "  But  perhaps  it  is  his  emotions," 
she  said.  "  'No  doubt  he  feels  it,  coming 
back  after  thirty  years,  and  all  so  changed." 
And  he  had  pressed  her  hand,  and  mur 
mured,  "  Ye  gods !  "  which  was  almost  pro 
fane,  Miss  Bethia  feared,  —  yet  not  quite, 
she  hoped;  and  had  asked  her  to  represent 
Minerva,  goddess  of  wisdom,  in  the  Festival 
Procession.  He  was  coming  this  very  eve 
ning  for  her  answer ;  what  should  it  be  ? 

Miss  Bethia  glanced  again  at  the  long 
mirror.  The  angular,  yet  not  ungraceful, 


238  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

figure,  the  long,  oval  face  with  its  delicate 
features  and  arched  eyebrows,  the  glossy 
bands  of  hair,  still  jet-black,  —  the  whole 
reflection  was  familiar,  friendly,  not  —  Miss 
Wax  modestly  hoped  —  not  wholly  unpleas- 
ing.  She  tried  to  imagine  the  figure  clad 
in  flowing  draperies;  there  was  a  rose-col 
ored  slip  under  the  spare  room  spread;  sat 
een  always  draped  prettily;  pink  was  her 
color,  and  she  could  not  somehow  feel  that 
sheets  would  be  quite  —  quite  what  she 
would  wish  to  be  seen  in.  And  —  on  her 
head,  now !  Would  a  helmet  be  necessary  ? 
There  was  not  such  an  article  in  the  village, 
but  she  presumed  with  silver  paper  —  and 
yet,  a  wreath  would  be  so  much  more  be 
coming;  the  feather-work  roses,  for  exam 
ple  !  She  took  them  from  under  their  round 
glass  case,  and  laid  them  against  her  hair, 
then  put  them  back  with  a  sigh.  The  con 
trast  certainly  used  to  be  thought  becoming, 


MISS    WAX  AT  HOME  239 

but  somehow  —  and  after  all  was  it  suit 
able  ?  What  would  Phoebe  and  Vesta  Blyth 
—  what  would  Mrs.  Tree  have  said  ? 

With  the  thought,  a  vision  rose  before 
Miss  Wax's  eyes:  a  little  figure  seated  in  a 
high-backed  chair,  leaning  on  an  ebony 
crutch-stick;  black  eyes  gleaming  with  mer 
riment,  lips  curving  in  a  shrewd  yet  kindly 
smile  — 

Miss  Wax  glanced  at  the  trophy  of  silver 
coffee-spoons  which  still  adorned  the  mantel 
piece  ;  sighed  again,  and  turned  away  from 
the  glass.  "  After  all,"  murmured  dear  Miss 
Bethia,  and  this  time  she  smiled,  though  it 
was  a  rather  wan  smile ;  "  after  all,  Minerva 
was  the  goddess  of  wisdom !  " 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    SORROWS    OF    ME.    PINDAR 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  Mr.  Pindar 
Hollopeter's  path  was  altogether  set  with 
roses  at  this  time;  on  the  contrary,  many 
a  thorn  and  bramble  arrested  his  progress, 
and  the  poor  gentleman's  enthusiasm  re 
ceived  many  a  prickly  wound.  He  had  been 
able  to  wave  Mrs.  Weight  away  with  a  lofty, 
"  Off,  woman,  off !  this  hour  is  mine !  "  but 
there  were  others  who  could  not  be  so  dis 
missed.  Mrs.  Ware  had  gently  but  firmly 
declined  to  lead  the  band  of  Roman  Matrons ; 
and  Salem  Rock,  when  approached  in  regard 
to  leading  the  Village  Elders,  had  expressed 

his  mind  with  massive  finality. 
240 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.   PINDAR     241 

"  Pindar,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  exactly  know 
what  you  mean  by  robes,  but  my  gen'al  idee 
of  'em  is  somethin'  white  and  flappin'.  Now 
I  wore  a  christenin'  robe  when  I  was  a  baby, 
and  I  expect  to  wear  a  burial  robe  when  I'm 
laid  out;  but,  betwixt  them  two,  I  expect 
co't  and  pants  will  have  to  do  me.  Jest  as 
much  obleeged  to  you,"  he  added,  kindly, 
seeing  Mr.  Pindar's  look  of  disappointment. 

Again,  Mr.  Pindar  was  amazed  and  dis 
tressed  by  the  lack  of  youth  and  beauty  in 
the  village.  It  did  seem  unfortunate  that 
Sophy  Willow  and  the  three  pretty  Benton 
girls  were  away,  and  that  Villa  Nudd's 
mother  was  ill  and  could  not  spare  her. 
Beautiful  Lily  Jaquith  could  not  leave  her 
new  baby,  and  Vesta  Strong  wrote  that  she 
should  have  been  delighted  to  be  Juno,  but 
all  the  children  had  just  come  down  with 
chicken-pox.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Pindar 
found  to  his  dismay  that  the  line  between 


242  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

youth  and  middle  age  was  less  closely  drawn 
in  the  village  than  in  the  theatres  of  the 
metropolis.  That  very  morning,  Miss  Lu- 
ella  Slocum  had  come  simpering  up  to  him 
in  the  street,  and  had  given  him  to  under 
stand  that  she  would  have  no  objection  to 
taking  the  part  of  Psyche  "  to  accommo 
date,"  as  she  heard  that  Annie  Lizzie  Weight 
was  not  to  be  allowed  to  walk  in  the  Pro 
cession.  Now  Miss  Luella  would  never  see 
forty-five  again,  and  her  eyes,  as  has  already 
been  intimated,  took  widely  divergent  views 
of  things  in  general;  but  she  had  always 
had  a  "  theatrical  turn,"  she  informed  Mr. 
Pindar,  and  had  taken  the  part  of  Mrs.  Jar- 
ley  when  they  had  the  Wax  Works. 

"  And  I  do  love  to  accommodate !  "  said 
Miss  Luella,  blandly.  "  I  know  what  it  is 
to  have  folks  set  back  and  keep  out  of  things, 
Mr.  Hollopeter.  I  don't  know  but  Mis' 
Weight  is  right  about  Annie  Lizzie;  she's 


THE   SORROWS   OF  MR.   PINDAR      243 

too  young  to  be  dressin'  up  and  comin'  for 
ward  in  public,  and  besides,  she's  had  no  ex 
perience,  as  you  may  say.  You  couldn't 
expect  her  to  have  the  air,  like  a  person  that's 
had  experience.  That's  what  I  always  say; 
you  have  to  have  the  air,  or  you  can't  do 
it  as  it  should  be  done.  Don't  say  a  word, 
Mr.  Hollopeter;  I  shall  be  real  pleased  to 
help  out,  and  I  have  a  flowered  Cretan  that 
I'd  like  to  have  you  call  and  see  if  'twill  do." 
"  I  wonder  if  he  is  a  little  wantin',"  said 
Miss  Luella,  in  telling  Miss  Eliza  Goby  of 
the  incident  afterward.  "  He  didn't  hardly 
say  a  word,  only  give  a  kind  of  groan,  and 
flapped  his  cloak,  and  begun  walkin'  off 
backwards  in  the  most  sing'lar  way.  I'm 
goin'  to  take  this  Cretan  in  to  Prudence  this 
afternoon,  and  see  if  she  can  make  it  over; 
it's  Princess  shape,  and  that's  always  stylish, 
I  think;  and  I  thought  put  on  pink  silk 
reveres  would  kind  of  liven  it  up:  Psyche 


244  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

wants  to  look  kind  of  youthful,  I  presume. 
The  sleeves  are  a  mite  snug,  but  I  don't 
know  as  that  matters ;  I  sha'n't  have  to  raise 
my  arms.  What  are  you  goin'  to  wear, 
Eliza?" 

"  White  muslin,"  said  Miss  Eliza  Goby, 
"  and  a  blue  sash,  or  green,  I  haven't  de 
cided  which;  green  is  my  color,  but  I  have 
that  blue  Roman  sash,  you  know.  I  think 
Pindar  is  queer,  Luella.  One  thing,  he 
doosn't  seem  to  have  hardly  any  knowledge 
about  this  village;  I  don't  know  as  he  takes 
the  paper  even.  Why,  he  thought  I  was 
married,  and  wanted  I  should  walk  with 
the  married  ladies ;  matrons,  he  called  'em ; 
the  idea,  I  I  told  him  I'd  never  ben  married, 
and  didn't  hardly  know  as  I  should;  any 
ways,  I  warn't  thinking  of  it  at  present, 
and  I'd  go  with  the  rest  of  the  girls." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ? "  asked  Miss 
Slocum. 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.   PINDAR      245 

"  I  don't  believe  that  man  is  well,"  said 
Miss  Goby,  gravely.  "  He  made  pretty  much 
the  same  answer  as  he  did  you,  sort  of 
groaned  and  flapped.  I  think  he  had  a  pain 
in  —  in  his  digestion,  and  didn't  like  to 
speak  of  it.  He's  a  perfect  gentleman,  if 
he  is  a  mite  flighty.  That  man  had  ought 
to  have  him  a  home,  and  some  one  to  look 
after  him,  that's  the  fact;  him  and  Homer, 
too." 

"That's  so!"  said  Miss  Slocum. 

But  the  unkindest  cut  of  all  was  admin 
istered  by  the  hand  of  Miss  Prudence  Par 
don.  It  was  Mrs.  Bliss  who  advised  him 
to  take  counsel  with  Miss  Prudence  in  re 
gard  to  costumes  in  general,  and  the  little 
lady  was  smitten  with  remorse  afterward  for 
having  done  so. 

"  It  was  base  of  me,  John,  I  know,"  she 
said ;  "  but  I  simply  could  not  tell  him 
myself;  he  was  so  hopeful  and  confiding, 


246  MRS.    TREE^S    WILL 

and  so  —  so  pitiful,  somehow,  John.  I  don't 
think  he  is  a  bit  more  crazy  than  other  peo 
ple,  —  I  believe  I  am  a  little  cracked  myself 
on  some  subjects,  and  I  know  you  are,  — 
only  his  craziness  is  in  a  different  line,  that 
we  know  nothing  about.  And  when  he  blinks 
at  me  with  his  nice  brown  doggy  eyes,  and 
flaps  his  little  bat-cloak,  and  says,  '  The 
Dramatic  Moment,  Mrs.  Bliss ! '  I  want  to 
be  a  Roman  Matron,  and  a  Village  Elder, 
and  everything  else,  just  to  please  him.  I 
would,  too,  if  you  would  let  me,  John.  I 
don't  believe  that  man  had  enough  to  eat 
before  he  came  here;  he's  a  perfect  skele 
ton." 

"  I  do  not  precisely  see  the  connection, 
Marietta,  my  dear,"  said  the  Reverend  John, 
mildly. 

"  You  never  do,  dear !  "  replied  his  wife. 
"  Talk  of  bats !  but  —  well,  so  I  just  told 
him  that  I  should  have  loved  to  if  I  hadn't 


TEE   SORROWS    OF  MR.    PINDAR      247 

been  a  minister's  wife,  but  that  you  were 
a  cruel  tyrant  and  wouldn't  let  me;  and 
then  I  advised  him  to  go  to  Miss  Prudence, 
because  she  would  know  all  about  tunics  and 
togas  and  everything  else.  I  knew,  you  see, 
that  she  was  all  ready  to  give  him  a  piece  of 
her  mind,  because  she  gave  me  just  a  scrap 
the  other  day,  when  I  was  trying  on  my  blue 
dimity.  It's  going  to  be  perfectly  sweet, 
John.  Oh,  I  do  hope  she  will  not  hurt  his 
poor  dear  funny  feelings  too  much:  she  can 
be  frightfully  severe." 

But  even  while  Mrs.  Bliss  was  speaking, 
Miss  Prudence  Pardon,  Rhadamanthus  in 
a  black  alpaca  apron,  was  laying  down 
the  law  to  Mr.  Pindar,  and  emphasizing  her 
points  with  a  stiffly  extended  pair  of  shears. 
Miss  Prudence  had  sat  on  the  same  bench 
at  school  with  the  Hollopeter  boys,  and  saw 
no  reason  for  mincing  matters. 

"  Pindar,"  she  said,  "  if  you  hadn't  have 


248  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

come  to  me,  I  should  have  held  my  peace; 
but  seeing  as  you  have  come,  and  asked  my 
opinion,  you  shall  have  it,  without  fear  or 
favor.  I  think  this  whole  thing  is  ridic'- 
lous  nonsense ;  and  I  think  if  you  go  on 
with  it  as  you've  begun,  you  will  prove  your 
self,  if  I  must  use  such  an  expression,  what 
I  call  a  gonoph." 

Mr.  Pindar  shrank  for  an  instant  before 
the  epithet,  but  gathered  himself  together 
with  a  protesting  wave. 

"  Madam !  "  he  cried,  "  you  fail  to  com 
prehend  —  " 

"  Excuse  me ! "  said  Miss  Prudence,  wav 
ing  the  shears  in  return.  "  I  expect  if  there's 
any  one  in  this  village  as  ought  to  compre 
hend,  it's  me,  with  all  I've  ben  through  this 
week.  Do  you  see  that  pile  of  truck  ?  "  She 
pointed  stiffly  with  the  shears  at  a  mass  of 
drapery  piled  high  on  the  haircloth  sofa. 
"  There's  thirty  whole  dresses  there,  let  alone 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.    PINDAR     249 

odd  skirts  and  polonays.  There's  full  sleeves 
and  snug  sleeves,  and  gored  skirts  and  full 
skirts,  and  ruffles  and  box-plaits,  and  more 
styles  than  ever  you  heard  of  in  your  life, 
and  every  material  from  more  antique  to 
sarsnet  cambric.  I  am  expected  to  make  all 
them  over  into  toonics  and  togas,  and  the 
hens  only  know  what  other  foolery;  and  I 
tell  you,  Pindar,  it  can't  be  done,  nor  I  ain't 
going  to  try  to  do  it." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  for  Mr.  Pindar 
was  waving  his  arms  and  flapping  his  cloak 
in  fervid  assent. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  he  cried ;  "  my  dear 
Prudence,  if  I  may  take  the  liberty  of  an 
old  schoolmate,  I  agree  with  you  fully,  en 
tirely.  I  have  endeavored  to  point  out  to 
the  ladies  with  whom  I  have  conversed,  that 
a  harmony  of  costume  is  absolutely  impera 
tive  ;  that  flowing  drapery  —  the  classic, 
Prudence,  the  classic !  —  is  what  the  occa- 


250  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

sion   demands.      A   glance   at   statuary  will 
readily  convince  you  - 

Miss  Prudence  pointed  the  shears  rigidly. 
"  Pindar  Hollopeter,"  she  said,  "  I  have 
seen  considerable  statuary  in  the  course  of 
my  life,  both  Parian  and  wax,  and  I  say 
this  to  you:  I  never  see  a  statue  yet  with 
clothes  that  I  would  say  fitted,  —  where 
there  was  any !  "  she  added,  grimly,  and 
compressed  her  lips.  "  As  to  hanging  sheets 
and  the  like  of  that  on  human  beings,  as  if 
they  was  clo'es-horses,"  she  went  on,  "  it's 
no  part  of  the  trade  I  was  brought  up  to, 
and  I've  no  idee  of  beginning  at  my  time 
of  life,  and  so  I  tell  you.  Now  my  advice 
to  you  is  this:  give  up  all  this  foolishness 
of  a  procession,  and  have  a  reception  at  the 
house,  or  the  mwseum,  or  whatever  it  is  to 
be  called  from  now  on.  Have  it  a  pink  tea, 
if  you  like,  and  I'll  get  up  some  real  tasty 
dresses  for  the  girls,  the  few  there  is,  and 


THE   SORROWS    OF  MR.    PINDAR      251 

the  ladies  can  receive.  That'll  part  the  cats 
from  the  kittens,  and  I  dunno's  there's  any 
thing  else  will.  The  idea  of  'Lize  Goby  in 
white  muslin!  She'd  look  like  lobster  and 
white  of  egg,  and  so  I  told  her. 

"  The  fact  is,  Pindar,"  Miss  Prudence 
went  on,  more  gently,  laying  down  the  shears 
for  an  instant,  "  you  and  Homer  was  both 
brought  up  real  peculiar,  and  you're  feeling 
it  now.  I  don't  mean  to  set  in  jedgment  on 
your  Ma,  far  from  it;  but  look  at  the  way 
it  has  worked  out.  Homer  is  a  poet;  well, 
luckily  for  him,  he  got  into  the  post-office, 
where  it  didn't  do  a  mite  of  harm.  Homer 
is  well  liked  and  respected  by  all  in  this  vil 
lage,"  she  added,  benevolently,  "  and  there 
was  no  one  but  rejoiced  at  his  being  left  well 
off.  But  you,  Pindar,  took  to  the  Drayma. 
Well,  I've  nothing  to  say  against  the 
Drayma,  either,  because  I've  had  no  ex 
perience  of  it,  nor  wished  to  have,  only 


252  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

this:  it  never  had  any  holt  in  this  village, 
and  when  you  try  to  bring  it  here,  you  make 
a  big  mistake.  What  is  it,  P'nel'pe  ?  " 

Miss  Penny,  kindest  soul  in  the  village 
where  so  many  are  kind,  had  been  hovering 
uneasily  about  the  door  during  this  inter 
view.  She  respected  Sister  Prudence's  judg 
ment  highly,  and  her  own  cheerful  common 
sense  forced  her  to  agree  with  it  in  this  in 
stance  ;  and  yet  her  heart  ached  to  see  Mr. 
Pindar  —  such  an  elegant  man !  —  sitting 
forlorn  and  dejected,  with  drooping  head 
and  wings,  he  who  had  entered  with  so 
jaunty  a  stride,  Importance  throned  on  his 
brow  and  the  Dramatic  Moment  flapping  in 
his  cloak.  She  did  wish  Sister  Prudence 
had  not  been  quite  so  severe. 

But  now  Miss  Penny  looked  in,  with  anx 
ious  eyes  and  heightened  color.  "  Excuse 
me,"  she  said.  "  I  see  some  of  the  ladies 
comin',  Sister,  and  I  thought  likely  they 


THE  SORROWS   OF  MR.   PINDAR     253" 

was  comin'  to  try  on.  I  didn't  know  but 
Mr.  Hollopeter  would  wish  —  "  She  paused 
to  listen,  and  then  hurried  back,  for  already 
the  little  shop  was  full  of  voices. 

"  Is  Prudence  in,  Penny  ?  Has  she  got 
that  polonay  ready  to  try  on,  think  ?  " 

"  Penny,  I  want  to  know  if  you've  got 
any  linin's  to  match  this  pink  cheese-cloth; 
it  don't  hardly  show  over  white." 

"  Penny,  I  found  this  up  attic,  and  I've 
come  to  show  it  to  Prudence.  See  here ! 
don't  you  think  it'll  make  an  elegant  toonic, 
take  and  piecen  it  out  with  a  Spanish  flounce, 
and  cut  off  this  postilion  ?  Shall  I  go  —  " 

Mr.  Pindar  sprang  to  his  feet  and  looked 
wildly  about  him.  Miss  Prudence  spoke  no 
word,  but,  raising  the  shears,  pointed  toward 
the  red-curtained  glass  door  that  opened  into 
the  little  back  garden. 

"  —  right  in  ?  "  The  door  from  the  shop 
opened,  and  admitted  Mrs.  Pottle,  her  mas- 


254  MRS.    TREE">S    WILL 

give  arms  filled  with  polka-dotted  purple 
merino. 

"  How  are  you,  Prudence  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Pottle.  "You  look  feverish." 

"  I'm  as  well  as  common,  thank  you,"  said 
Miss  Prudence,  grimly.  "  Won't  you  be 
seated?" 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE    DRAMATIC    MOMENT 

ME.  PINDAR,  as  has  already  been  said, 
was  to  call  on  Miss  Wax  that  evening  for 
her  answer ;  but  Mr.  Homer  was  before  him, 
for  this  was  Friday  evening,  which  the  little 
gentleman  invariably  spent  with  his  life 
long  friend.  Punctually  at  a  quarter  before 
eight  he  appeared,  and  found  Miss  Wax 
ready  for  him,  sitting  under  the  portrait, 
with  her  elbow  resting  on  the  little  table. 
Her  silk  dress,  of  the  kind  called  chine,  dis 
played  bunches  of  apple-blossoms  on  a  pale 
purple  ground;  she  wore  a  scarf  of  rose- 
colored  crape,  and  a  profusion  of  hair  jew 
elry.  Mr.  Homer,  as  he  advanced  to  greet 

265 


256  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

her,  made  his  usual  mental  comment  that 
she  was  an  elegant  female,  and  pressed  her 
hand  cordially;  Miss  Bethia  returned  the 
pressure,  and  inquired  anxiously  for  his 
health.  "  I  trust  you  are  feeling  better, 
Homer,"  she  said,  kindly ;  "all  this  excite 
ment  is  very  disturbing  to  you,  I  am  sure. 
But  it  will  soon  be  over  now." 

Mr.  Homer  sighed,  as  he  took  his  accus 
tomed  seat.  "  Either  it  or  I  must  soon  be 
over,  Miss  Bethia,"  he  said,  mournfully. 
"  I  feel  that  I  cannot  much  longer  cope  with 
—  a  —  the  present  circumstances.  I  am 
aware  that  I  should  have  more  fortitude; 
more  —  a  —  longanimity ;  but  —  as  the  la 
mented  Keats  has  it,  '  Misery  most  drown- 
ingly  doth  sing  in  my  lone  ear.'  The  cup 
of  joy,  Miss  Bethia,  has  become  a  poisoned 
chalice.  The  firmament  outblackens  Ere 
bus  ;  the  brooks  utter  a  gorgon  voice.  Many 
phrases  which  I  have  formerly  considered 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  257 

as  mere  poetical  ebullitions,  —  a  —  wafts  of 
the  Wings  of  Poesy,  if  I  may  so  express 
myself,  —  now  seem  to  me  the  fit  expression, 
—  a  —  realization,  —  a  —  I  may  say  con 
cretion,  —  of  my  present  state  of  mind.  I 
thought  I  appreciated  the  great  Keats  be 
fore,  but  — "  He  waved  his  hands  and 
shook  his  head  in  speechless  emotion. 

"  Can  you  not  dismiss  the  subject  from 
your  mind  for  a  time,  Homer  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Bethia,  soothingly.  "  Your  studies  have  al 
ways  sustained  you,  and  have  been  of  great 
benefit,  I  am  sure,  to  your  friends  as  well 
as  yourself.  Have  you  written  any  more  of 
the  Epic,  the  (  Death  of  Heliogabalus  '  ?  I 
was  in  hopes  you  might  have  another  scene 
to  read  to  me  this  evening." 

Mr.  Homer  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  not 
touched  the  Epic,"  he  said,  "  since  —  since 
the  events  which  have  recently  concatenated, 
if  I  may  so  express  myself.  I  sometimes 


258  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

think  that  I  shall  never  touch  it  again,  Miss 
Bethia." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,  Homer !  "  Miss  Wax 
protested;  but  the  little  gentleman  went  on, 
with  an  agitated  wave. 

"  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  the  Muse  had 
deserted  me ;  had  —  a  —  ceased  to  gild  with 
her  smile  the  —  shall  I  say  the  peaks  of 
my  fancy?  I  have  endeavored  to  woo  her 
back.  My  brother  Pindar  is  most  anxious 
that  I  should  write  an  —  an  ode  —  for  this 
celebration  which  he  is  planning;  but  the 
numbers  in  which  I  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  lisping,  and  which  —  I  may  say  to  you, 
my  valued  friend  —  were  wont  in  happier 
days  to  flow,  —  to  —  a  —  meander,  —  to  — 
a  —  babble  o'er  Pirene's  sands,  with  ease 
and  —  and  alacrity,  now  hesitate ;  —  a  — 
reluctate ;  —  a  —  refuse  the  meed  of  melody 
which  —  which  the  occasion  demands.  My 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  259 

brother  Pindar,  —  you  have  seen  him,  Miss 
Bethia?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Miss  Wax,  softly.  "  He 
was  here  yesterday.  He  asked  —  he  was  so 
good  as  to  invite  me  to  appear  in  the  Fes 
tival  Procession  as  —  as  Minerva," 

Mr.  Homer  looked  up  eagerly.  "  And  you 
replied  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  asked  for  time  to  consider,"  said  Miss 
Wax,  looking  down.  "  I  need  not  say  to 
you,  Homer,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  refuse 
Pindar's  first  request,  after  so  many  years 
of  absence ;  "  she  sighed  gently ;  "  but  — 
but  reflection  has  convinced  me  that  it  would 
not  be  altogether  —  shall  I  say  suitable  ?  I 
have  never  appeared  in  public,  Homer,  and 
I  hardly  feel  —  " 

She  paused,  for  Mr.  Homer  was  waving 
his  hands  and  opening  and  shutting  his 
mouth  in  great  agitation. 

"  Precisely   so !  "   he   cried.      "  Oh,   very 


260  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

much  so  indeed,  my  dear  friend.  It  is  an 
unspeakable  consolation  to  find  that  you 
share  my  sentiments  on  this  subject.  May 
I,  Miss  Bethia,  —  with  friendship's  key,  — 
unlock,  so. to  speak,  the  counsels  of  my  — 
my  bleeding  breast?  We  are  old  friends: 
we  twa  —  if  I  may  quote  Burns  in  this  con 
nection  —  ha'  paidl't  i'  the  burn,  —  I  speak 
metaphorically,  my  dear  lady,  as  I  need  not 
assure  you,  —  f rae  mornin'  sun  till  dine ; 
the  poets  refuse  occasionally  the  bonds  of 
grammar,  and  both  rhyme  and  metre  re 
quire  the  verb  in  this  instance,  as  you  will 
readily  perceive,  even  though  — 

Mr.  Homer  waved  the  subject  to  its  con 
clusion,  and  hurried  on :  "  You  have  also 
known  Pindar  from  childhood,  and  have  al 
ways  felt  —  may  I  not  say  kindly,  toward 
the  wayward  but  high-souled  lad  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  murmured  Miss  Bethia, 
softly,  with  another  gentle  sigh. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  261 

"  This  being  so,"  Mr.  Homer  went  on,  "  I 
may  say  to  you  without  hesitation  that  this 
whole  matter  of  the  celebration  is  a  —  is 
a  nightmare  to  me !  I  have  led  a  secluded 
life,  Bethia,  as  befits  a  votary  of  the  Muse. 
Blest  with  a  limited  but  sufficient  number  of 
congenial  friends,  principally  ladies,  — 
though  William  Jaquith  and  Thomas  Candy 
have  been  as  sons  to  me  of  late,  as  sons,  — 
I  have  kept,  Miss  Bethia,  the  noiseless  tenor 
of  my  way,  —  the  expression  is  Gray's,  as 
you  are  well  aware,  and  is  commonly  mis 
quoted,  even  tenor  being  the  customary, 
though  wholly  incorrect  version ;  —  a  — 
where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yes,  as  I  was  about  to 
say,  I  have  kept  the  noiseless  tenor  of  my 
way,  in  peace  and  pleasantness,  hitherto. 

"  '  For  indeed,'  as  the  lamented  Keats  ob 
serves  in  an  early  poem  which  is  too  little 
known : 


262  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  '  For  indeed,  'tis  a  sweet  and  peculiar  pleasure, 
(And  blissful  is  he  who  such  happiness  finds,) 
To  possess  but  a  span  of  the  hour  of  leisure 
In  elegant,  pure,  and  aerial  minds.' 

That  peculiar  pleasure,  Miss  Bethia,  has 
been  mine  up  to  the  present  time.  My 
brother  Pindar's  course  has  been  far  differ 
ent.  At  an  early  age,  as  you  are  aware,  he 
sought  the  maddening  throng ;  the  —  a  — 
busy  hum ;  the  —  a  —  in  short,  the  roaring 
mart.  I  understand  that  much  of  his  time 
has  been  devoted  to  music,  and  the  remainder 
to  histrionic  art.  He  is  permanently  em 
ployed,  as  I  understand,  at  a  —  a  metropol 
itan  place  of  amusement,  where  he  occasion 
ally  takes  part  in  Shakespearian  representa 
tions  (he  has  played  the  Ghost  in  '  Hamlet,' 
he  tells  me),  and  at  other  times  performs 
upon  the  —  in  short,  the  kettledrums.  You 
will  readily  perceive,  my  dear  friend,  that 
such  a  life  conduces  to  the  development  of 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  263 

ideas  which  are  discrepant ;  —  a  —  diver 
gent  from,  —  a  —  devoid  of  commensurabil- 
ity  with,  the  genius  loci,  the  spirit  which 
hovers,  or  has  hitherto  hovered,  over  Elm — 
I  would  say  Quahaug.  Miss  Bethia,  we  are 
not  a  dramatic  community.  With  the  ex 
ception  of  Mrs.  Jarley's  Wax  Works,  some 
thirty  years  ago,  and  an  Old  Folks'  Con 
cert  at  a  somewhat  later  period,  I  am  unable 
to  recall  any  occurrence  of  a  —  of  a  his 
trionic  nature  in  our  —  shall  I  say  midst  ? 
And  now,  —  Miss  Bethia,  I  love  my  brother 
tenderly,  and  am  anxious,  deeply  anxious, 
to  respond  to  the  feeling,  the  —  a  —  pro- 
pendency,  the  —  kindling  of  affection's 
torch,  which  has  led  him  to  seek  his  early 
home.  I  also  respect,  —  a  —  revere,  —  a  — 
entertain  the  loftiest  sentiments  in  regard 
to  the  Muse ;  but  when  I  am  asked  to  appear 
in  public,  clad  in  draperies  which  —  in 
short,  of  domestic  origin,"  —  he  waved  fur- 


264  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

ther  detail  delicately  away,  —  "  and  crowned 
with  bays,  I  —  Miss  Bethia,  I  assure  you 
my  spirit  faints  within  me.  Nor  can  I  feel 
that  the  proposed  demonstration  would  in 
any  way  have  commended  itself  to  my 
cousin  Marcia.  It  is  borne  in  upon  me  — 
strenuously,  I  may  say  —  that,  if  my  cousin 
Marcia  were  present  at  this  time  in  the  — 
a  —  fleshly  tabernacle,  she  would  receive 
this  whole  matter  in  a  spirit  of  —  levity ; 
of  —  a  —  derision ;  of  —  a  -  -  contumely. 
Am  I  wrong  in  this  supposition,  Miss 
Bethia  ? " 

"  I  feel  positive  that  you  are  right, 
Homer !  "  said  Miss  Wax.  "  I  speak  with 
conviction.  In  fact,  it  was  the  thought  of 
—  of  Her  we  honor,"  —  she  glanced  at  the 
trophy  with  an  introductory  wave,  —  "  that 
brought  me  to  a  decision  on  the  point.  I 
do  feel  for  you,  Homer,  and  share  with  you 
the  distress  of  having  to  —  to  deny  Pindar 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  265 

anything  he  desires.  He  will  be  here  soon, 
and  perhaps  if  we  speak  to  him  gently  on 
the  subject,  he  may  see  it  in  the  light  in 
which  it  presents  itself  to  us.  Probably  this 
side  has  not  been  suggested  to  him."  (Has 
it  not?  Oh,  Miss  Prudence!  Miss  Pru 
dence!)  "I  think  that  if  we  compose  our 
thoughts  to  a  greater  degree  of  calm,  we  may 
have  more  effect.  A  little  music,  Homer  ?  " 

Mr.  Homer  put  his  hand  to  his  head  with 
a  sigh.  "  Miss  Bethia,"  he  said,  "  a  little 
music  would  be  balm  to  the  thirsty  soul; 
—  a  —  wings  to  the  rainbow-hued  spirit ;  — 
a  —  oil  which  runs  down  the  —  :  He  waved 
the  rest  of  the  simile  away.  "  I  thank  you, 
my  elegant  and  valued  friend.  May  I  con 
duct  you  to  the  instrument  ?  " 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  Mr.  Homer 
conducting  Miss  Bethia  Wax  to  the  instru 
ment.  After  a  profound  bow  (his  feet  in 
the  first  position  in  dancing),  he  held  out 


266  MRS.    TEES' S    WILL 

his  hand;  she  laid  the  tips  of  her  long 
fingers  delicately  in  it,  and,  thus  supported, 
glided  across  the  room ;  a  courtesy  of  thanks, 
a  bow  of  acknowledgment,  and  she  sank 
gracefully  on  the  music-stool,  while  Mr. 
Homer  returned  to  his  favorite  chair,  drew 
a  long  breath,  and  sank  back  with  folded 
hands  and  closed  eyes. 

Miss  Wax's  instrument  was  one  of  Mr. 
Homer's  chief  sources  of  inspiration,  and 
I  must  give  it  a  word  of  description,  for 
perhaps  there  never  was  another  precisely 
like  it.  Tommy  Candy  called  it  a  barrel- 
organ,  and  indeed  it  was  not  wholly  unlike 
an  idealized  barrel  of  polished  rosewood, 
standing  erect  on  four  slender  legs.  The 
front  was  decorated  with  flutings  of  red 
silk;  the  wood  was  inlaid  with  flowers  and 
arabesques  in  mother-of-pearl.  Beneath  the 
silk  flutings  appeared  an  ivory  handle,  and 
it  was  by  turning  this  handle  that  Miss 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  267 

Bethia  "  performed."  "  Cecilia's  Bouquet  " 
was  the  name  inscribed  on  the  front  in  flour 
ishing  gilt  letters;  and  Miss  Bethia  had 
often  been  told  that,  when  playing  on  the 
instrument,  she  reminded  her  hearers  of  the 
saint  of  that  name.  It  was  perhaps  on  this 
account  that  she  was  in  the  habit  of  assum 
ing  a  rapt  expression  at  such  times,  her  head 
thrown  back,  her  eyes  raised  to  the  level 
of  the  cornice.  Thus  seated  and  perform 
ing,  Miss  Bethia  was  truly  a  pleasant  sight ; 
and  the  melodies  that  came  faltering  out 
from  the  old  music-box  (for  really  it  was 
nothing  else!)  were  as  pensive,  mild,  and 
innocent  as  the  good  lady  herself.  "  The 
Maiden's  Prayer,"  "  The  Sorrowful  Shep 
herd,"  "Cynthia's  Roundelay,"  and  "The 
Princess  Charlotte's  Favorite ;  "  these  were 
among  them,  I  remember,  but  there  were 
twelve  airs,  and  it  took  quite  half  an  hour 
to  play  them  all  through. 


268  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

On  this  occasion,  long  before  the  half- 
hour  was  over,  Mr.  Homer's  brow  had 
cleared,  and  his  face  grown  as  placid  as  Miss 
Bethia's  own.  "  The  Princess  Charlotte's 
Favorite  "  was  also  his  (a  most  melancholy 
air  I  always  thought  it,  as  if  the  poor  prin 
cess  had  foreseen  her  early  death,  and  be 
wailed  it,  a  Jephthah's  Daughter  in  hoop  and 
powder),  and  he  followed  it  with  pensive 
pleasure,  bowing  his  head  and  waving  his 
hands  in  time  to  the  music,  and  occasionally 
joining  in  the  melody  with  a  thin  but  sweet 
falsetto.  "  Ta-ta,  ta-tee,  ta-ta,  ta-tum !  " 
warbled  Mr.  Homer,  and  Miss  Bethia's  gen 
tle  heart  rejoiced  to  hear  him. 

The  two  friends  were  so  absorbed  that 
they  did  not  hear  the  door-bell,  —  indeed,  it 
rang  in  the  kitchen,  and  was  a  subdued 
tinkle  at  that,  —  nor  Peggy's  steps  as  she 
went  to  answer  the  call;  and  it  was  only 
when  the  "  Princess  Charlotte's  Favorite " 


269 

had  faltered  to  its  dismal  conclusion  that 
Mr.  Homer,  chancing  to  raise  his  eyes,  saw 
his  brother  standing  in  the  doorway.  The 
vision  was  a  disconcerting  one.  Mr.  Pindar 
stood  with  his  arms  folded  in  his  little 
cloak,  his  head  bent  forward,  peering  up 
through  his  eyebrows  with  a  keen  and  sus 
picious  look.  Thus  he  stood  for  an  instant; 
but,  on  meeting  his  brother's  eyes,  he  flung 
up  both  arms  as  if  in  invocation,  —  whether 
of  blessing  or  malediction  was  not  clear  to 
Mr.  Homer's  perturbed  gaze,  —  the  cloak 
fluttered  in  batlike  sweeps,  and  he  was  gone. 
Mr.  Homer  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an 
exclamation  of  dismay;  and  Miss  Bethia, 
whose  back  had  been  turned  to  the  door,  rose 
also  in  wonder  and  distress.  "  What  is  the 
matter,  Homer  ?  "  she  asked.  "  You  appear 
disturbed.  Is  —  is  any  one  there  ?  "  she 
added,  seeing  his  look  still  fixed  on  the  empty 
doorway. 


270  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  It  was  my  brother !  "  replied  Mr. 
Homer.  "  It  was  Pindar.  He  was  appar 
ently  —  moved;  —  a  —  agitated;  —  a  — 
under  stress  of  emotion.  I  fear  he  is  ill, 
Miss  Bethia;  I  must  hasten  after  him." 

"  Pindar  ill!  "  cried  Miss  Bethia.  "  Oh, 
Homer,  bring  him  back,  will  you  not? 
bring  him  back,  and  let  me  give  him  some 
of  my  Raspberry  Restorative !  Do  hasten !  " 

Mr.  Homer  promised  to  return  if  it  were 
possible,  and  hurried  away,  leaving  his  host 
ess  wringing  her  hands  and  uttering  plain 
tive  murmurs.  He  hastened  along  the  quiet 
street.  The  moon  was  up,  and  he  could  see 
a  figure  fluttering  on  ahead  of  him,  with 
waving  cloak  and  hasty,  disordered  steps. 

"  Pindar !  "  cried  Mr.  Homer.  "  My  dear 
brother!  wait  for  me,  I  implore  you.  It 
is  I,  Homer ;  I  entreat  you  to  pause !  " 

The  figure  wavered,  halted ;  finally  turned 
round,  and  stood  with  folded  arms  till  Mr. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  271 

Homer  hurried  up,  anxious  and  breath 
less. 

"Are  you  ill,  Pindar?"  cried  the  little 
gentleman.  "  Some  sudden  seizure,  my  dear 
brother?  I  am  truly  distressed:  let  me 
support  you !  " 

But  Mr.  Pindar  waved  him  aside  with  a 
lofty  gesture.  "  I  require  no  support, 
Brother !  "  he  said.  "  My  corporal  envelope 
is  robust,  I  am  obliged  to  you." 

"  Then  why  —  why  this  sudden  appear 
ance  and  disappearance  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Homer, 
bewildered.  "  Miss  Wax  was  expecting  you ; 
we  were  both  expecting  you,  sir !  " 

"  Were  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pindar,  bitterly. 
"  I  should  hardly  have  thought  it.  I  judged 
that  I  intruded,  sir.  It  appeared  to  me 
that  tender  passages  were  in  progress.  I 
inferred  that  the  advent  of  the  Wanderer 
was  unwelcome,  sir,  unwelcome." 

Mr.  Homer  attempted  to  speak,  but  Mr. 


272  MRS.    TREE  » 8   WILL 

Pindar  waved  him  off,,  and  hurried  on,  a  real 
feeling  struggling  through  the  pompous 
structure  of  his  sentences.  "  It  would  ap 
pear  that  I  was  in  error,  sir,  when  I  re 
quested  you  to  compose  an  ode.  I  should 
have  demanded  an  epithalamium ;  flute  and 
clarionet,  sir: 

"  Tweedle,  tweedle,  toodle  turn, 
Clash  the  cymbal,  bang  the  drum  ! 
Cupid  and  his  antic  choir 
Sing  for  Homer  and  Bethia  1 

But  you  might  have  told  me,  Homer;  you 
might  have  told  me,  sir !  " 

Mr.  Homer  Hollopeter  blushed  very  red 
all  over;  if  it  is  discreet  even  to  allude  to 
Mr.  Homer's  toes,  I  am  quite  sure  that  even 
they  must  have  grown  rosy.  He  looked 
gravely  at  his  brother,  who  was  waring  his 
cloak  in  great  excitement. 

"  My  dear  brother,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  it 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  273 

— 'I  —  I  fail  to  find  words  in  which  to 
express  the  —  the  — •  enormousness  of  your 
misconception.  I  regard  Miss  Wax,  sir,  as 
a  sister,  an  esteemed  and  valued  sister." 

At  the  place  where  Mr.  Homer  had  over 
taken  his  brother,  stood  a  watering-trough, 
a  hollowed  section  of  a  huge  oak-tree, 
through  which  ran  a  tiny  crystal  stream. 
The  companion  oak,  still  vigorous,  over 
shadowed  the  trough,  making  a  pleasant 
circle  of  shade,  and  around  this  oak  ran  a 
rustic  seat.  It  was  a  favorite  gathering- 
place  of  the  village  boys,  but  now  the  boys 
were  in  bed,  and  all  was  still  save  for  the 
gurgle  of  the  little  rill  as  it  babbled  along 
the  trough. 

To  Mr.  Homer's  utter  amazement  and  dis 
comfiture,  Mr.  Pindar  now  flung  himself 
down  upon  this  seat,  and,  pulling  out  a  large 
blue  cotton  handkerchief,  buried  his  face  in 
it  and  burst  into  tears. 


274  MBS.    TREE'S   WILL 

"  Nobody  is  glad  to  see  me !  "  cried  Mr. 
Pindar,  sobbing  violently.  "  Everybody 
tbinks  I  am  mad.  Prudence  Pardon  called 
me  a  —  a  gonoph,  and  refused  to  make  tunics 
for  tbe  Village  Elders.  A  horrible  fat 
woman  —  rightly  named  Weight  —  hoivesco 
referens!  —  wished  to  be  Goddess  of  Lib 
erty,  and,  when  I  shrank  appalled,  she 
robbed  me  of  the  pretty  child  who  should 
have  been  my  Psyche.  I  am  —  unappre 
ciated,  sir.  I  am  mocked  at  and  derided. 
The  little  dogs  and  all,  Tray,  Blanche,  and 
Sweetheart  —  I  returned  to  benefit  my  na 
tive  heath :  to  cause  —  blossoms  of  histrionic 
art  to  spring  up  in  the  —  arid  pathways  — 
oyster  shells  !  "  —  he  indicated  by  a  wave  the 
white  and  glittering  paths  which  led  to  one 
and  another  silent  house,  and  which  are  in 
deed  the  pride  of  the  village.  "  I  have  piped 
to  everybody,  and  nobody  will  dance,  ex 
cept  —  hideous  persons  who  squint.  I  came 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  275 

for  comfort  and  sympathy  to  Bethia  Wax,  the 
playmate  of  my  early  days ;  I  found  - 
He  waved  his  arms  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 
"  And  I  am  so  tired  of  playing  the  kettle 
drum  !  "  said  the  poor  gentleman ;  and  he 
wept  afresh. 

Mr.  Homer  sat  down  by  his  brother's  side, 
and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Don't 
cry !  "  he  said.  "  Don't  cry,  Pindy !  Mother 
wouldn't  like  to  have  you  cry." 

His  voice,  faltered  on  the  long-unspoken 
diminutive;  but,  at  the  sound  of  it,  Mr. 
Pindar,  still  holding  the  handkerchief  to  his 
eyes  with  his  right  hand,  held  out  his  left; 
Mr.  Homer  grasped  it,  and  the  two  sat  silent, 
hand  in  hand,  while  the  little  stream  trickled 
cheerfully  along,  and  the  black  leaf-shadows 
nickered  on  the  white  road. 

Mr.  Homer  opened  and  shut  his  mouth 
several  times,  and  patted  his  brother's  hand, 


276  MRS.    TREE^S    WILL 

before  he  spoke  again.  At  length  he  said, 
very  gently: 

"  My  dear  boy,  my  dear  fellow,  you 
are  unnerved.  Compose  yourself,  compose 
yourself!  I  also  have  been  sadly  un 
nerved,  Pindy.  An  hour  ago  I  could  have 
mingled  my  tears  with  yours  freely,  sir, 
freely.  But  music  hath  charms,  as  you  are 
aware,  to  soothe  the  —  Savagery  is  far 
from  my  breast  at  the  present  time,  sir,  but 
the  quotation  is  too  familiar  to  require  eluci 
dation.  Our  friend  Miss  Wax  has  been  per 
forming  upon  the  instrument,  and  an  hour 
spent  in  her  society,  when  thus  employed, 
is  invariably  soothing  to  the  wounded  spirit. 
I  wish,  my  dear  brother,  that  you  had  come 
earlier  in  the  evening." 

Mr.  Pindar  groaned,  and  dried  his  eyes, 
but  made  no  reply.  Mr.  Homer,  pausing, 
looked  carefully  about  him,  as  if  struck  by 
a  sudden  thought. 


THE  DRAMATIC   MOMENT  277 

"  Pindar,"  he  said,  in  an  altered  tone, 
"  do  you  know  where  we  are  sitting  ?  Look 
about  you !  " 

Mr.  Pindar  looked  around,  then  up  at  the 
tree  which  bent  friendly  over  them.  "It  is 
the  oak-seat !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  oak- 
seat  and  the  watering-trough.  Muffled 
drums !  Enter  Homeless  Wanderer,  weep- 
ing." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  day  when  Silas 
Candy  ducked  Ephraim  Weight  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Homer,  disregarding  the  last  remark.  "  We 
were  sitting  here,  Pindar,  and  we  did  not 
interfere.  I  have  sometimes  reflected  that 
it  was  a  —  an  error,  sir ;  a  —  a  faltering  in 
the  way ;  a  —  a  dereliction  from  the  —  a  — 
star-y-pointing  path;  but  we  were  young, 
sir,  and  Ephraim  was  —  shall  I  say  unat 
tractive  ?  But  — •  Pindy,  when  Silas  came 
along  —  I  remember  it  as  if  it  were  yester 
day  —  I  had  just  been  cutting  some  initials 


278  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

in  the  tree.  Upon  my  word,  they  are  here 
still !  "  With  a  trembling  finger  he  pointed 
out  some  half-obliterated  letters.  "  B.  H., 
sir ;  do  you  see  them  ?  Bethia  Hollopeter !  " 

Mr.  Pindar  nodded  gloomily,  and,  put 
ting  away  the  blue  handkerchief,  crossed  his 
arms  on  his  breast.  "  I  see  them,  sir,"  he 
said.  "  Why  turn  the  dagger  in  the  wound  ? 
I  see  them !  " 

"  What  was  my  thought,  Brother,"  Mr. 
Homer  went  on,  growing  more  and  more 
animated,  "  when  I  made  those  letters ;  when 
I  —  a  —  wounded  the  oaken  breast  which 
—  which  —  not  precisely  nourished,  but  cer 
tainly  cheered  and  comforted  me  ?  Brother, 
I  fancied  Bethia  as  your  bride.  Stay !  hear 
me !  "  as  Mr.  Pindar  made  a  hasty  gesture 
of  dissent.  "  I  knew  later  that  —  that  your 
affections,  like  my  own,  were  placed  else 
where;  but  —  but  Fate,  sir,  planted  an  ar 
row,  of  a  highly  barbed  description,  in  our 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  279 

twin  breasts.  No  more  of  that.  Miss  Be 
thia  Wax,  sir,  has  been  the  friend,  the  ele 
gant  and  valued  friend,  of  my  entire  life. 
Since  the  lamented  death  of  our  cousins, 
Phoebe  and  Vesta,  and  recently  the  irrep 
arable  loss  I  have  sustained  in  the  death 
of  Cousin  Marcia,  we  —  Miss  Bethia  and  I 
—  have  been  brought  into  yet  closer  and 
more  sympathetic  companionship.  Aside 
from  the  devoted  tenderness  of  Thomas  and 
William,  and  the  —  the  faithful,  if  occa 
sionally  violent  ministrations  of  Direxia 
Hawkes,  Miss  Bethia  has  been  my  chief  stay 
and  comfort  in  these  troublous  days.  But 
I  assure  you,  sir,  with  my  hand  on  my 
heart,"  —  Mr.  Homer  suited  the  action  to 
the  word,  —  "  that  nothing  of  a  tender  na 
ture  has  ever  passed,  or  will  ever  pass,  be 
tween  me  and  my  elegant  and  valued  friend. 
Yet  once  more  hear  me,  Brother !  It  is  my 
firm  belief,  Pindar,  that  one  image,  and  one 


280  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

only,  has  remained  since  youth  implanted  in 
—  in  that  bosom,  sir,  to  which  I  allude  with 
the  highest  respect ;  that  image,  sir,  I  believe 
to  be  yours !  " 

Mr.  Homer  paused,  much  moved.  Mr. 
Pindar  waved  his  cloak  in  protest,  but  his 
countenance  brightened  perceptibly. 

"  Not  so !  "  he  murmured.  "  Not  so ! 
Thunder.  Exit  Homeless  Wanderer,  pur 
sued  by  furies.  Brother,  I  will  return  to 
my  hated  task.  Enough !  I  thank  you,  but 
I  go." 

"  Brother,  I  implore  you  not  so  to  do !  " 
cried  Mr.  Homer,  earnestly.  "  I  believe  that 
other  and  happier  things  are  in  store  for 
you.  I  have  a  vision,  sir,  of  a  home  replete 
with  elegant  comfort.  Miss  Bethia,  though 
not  opulent,  is  possessed  of  a  comfortable 
competence  —  though  Mammon  is  far  from 
my  thoughts !  "  cried  Mr.  Homer,  blushing 
again.  "  A  home,  I  say,  sir,  brightened  by 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOMENT  281 

the  society  of  —  of  Woman,  and  by  every 
evidence  of  a  refined  and  cultivated  taste. 
My  dear  brother,  return  with  me  now  to  the 
—  the  bower,  if  I  may  so  express  myself, 
of  our  esteemed  and  valued  friend.  Miss 
Bethia  urged,  I  may  say,  implored,  me  to 
bring  you  back." 

"  ISTot  so ! "  murmured  Mr.  Pindar. 
"  Alarums  and  excursions.  Exit  —  " 

But  Mr.  Homer  interrupted  him,  a  sud 
den  fire  shining  in  his  mild  eyes.  "  Brother 
Pindar,"  he  cried,  "  you  have  many  times 
alluded,  since  your  return,  to  the  Dramatic 
Moment;  you  have  commented  upon  the 
absence  of  the  dramatic  element  in  my  com 
position.  But,  sir,  it  is  borne  in  upon  me 
strongly  at  this  instant  that  a  Dramatic  Mo 
ment  is  now  striking  in  —  in  your  life  and 
that  of  our  esteemed  and  valued  friend.  As 
you  yourself  would  observe,  hark  to  it,  sir ! 


282  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

it  strikes ;  —  a  —  resounds ;  —  a  —  larums, 
sir,  larums." 

The  two  brothers  had  risen,  and  stood 
facing  each  other  in  the  moonlight.  They 
waved  their  arms  with  an  identical  gesture; 
never  had  they  looked  so  alike.  "  It  lar 
ums  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pindar,  solemnly. 
Suddenly  he  seized  his  brother's  hand,  and 
motioned  him  forward. 

"  Flourish  and  a  sennet !  "  he  cried. 
"  Possible  joy-bells !  Brother,  set  on !  " 


CHAPTER    XV. 

AFTER    ALL,  ! 

AND  after  all,  as  every  one  said,  every 
thing  went  off  so  beautifully  that  people 
need  not  have  been  disturbed.  The  Proces 
sional  Festival  Jubilee  was  given  up  (really, 
I  think,  to  Mr.  Pindar's  relief  as  well  as 
that  of  every  one  else,  —  except  Miss  Luella 
Slocum),  and  a  reception  substituted  for  it; 
not  a  Pink  Tea,  but  a  dignified  and  really 
charming  occasion.  Mrs.  Bliss  and  Will 
Jaquith  planned  it,  and  the  whole  village 
helped  to  carry  it  out.  The  day  was  per 
fection,  the  very  crown  jewel  of  the  summer : 
the  house  was  thrown  open,  and  the  guests 

were  met  in  the  hall  by  a  Reception  Commit- 
283 


284  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

tee,  consisting  of  the  Messrs.  Hollopeter,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Bliss,  Miss  Wax  and  Mrs.  Ware, 
and  Dr.  Geoffrey  Strong.  First,  Doctor 
Strong  made  a  brief  address  of  welcome, 
which  put  every  one  into  a  holiday  humor 
of  twinkling  anticipation;  and  then  there 
were  tableaux,  framed  in  the  wide  low  arch 
of  the  dining-room  door,  illustrating  the  his 
tory  of  the  village  since  the  first  Darracott, 
Timothy  Philo,  settled  here  in  1680.  The 
First  Service,  the  Indian  Massacre  (Mr. 
Pindar  superb  as  King  Philip,  in  full  war 
paint  and  feathers,  flourishing  a  real  toma 
hawk  from  the  Collection  over  the  prostrate 
form  of  Tommy  Candy),  the  departure  of 
the  Quahaug  Company  of  Patriot  Militia  for 
Lexington,  the  women  of  Quahaug  praying 
for  the  success  of  Washington's  arms,  and 
so  on  down  to  the  last,  when  the  Guardian 
Spirit  of  the  village  was  represented  as 
mourning  for  the  death  of  Mrs.  Tree.  This 


AFTER  ALL!  285 

was  dear  Miss  Wax's  idea,  and  she  besought 
the  Committee  so  earnestly  to  carry  it  out, 
"  as  a  token  of  respect  for  Her  we  honor," 
that  they  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse.  Mrs. 
Bliss  was  secretly  afraid  that  it  might  make 
people  smile;  and  so  it  might  have  done  if 
Annie  Lizzie  had  not  looked  so  sweet,  in 
her  white  dress  and  drooping  wings  (she  got 
them,  after  all!),  that  everybody  cried  in 
stead. 

Between  the  scenes  the  band,  stationed  in 
the  garden,  "  discoursed  acceptable  strains," 
as  the  paper  said  next  day ;  and,  after  the 
final  scene,  Mr.  Homer  made  a  little  speech. 
He  had  been  most  unwilling  to  speak,  but 
everybody  insisted  that  he;  and  no  one  else, 
must  actually  open  the  Museum.  So  the 
dear  gentleman  got  up,  very  pink  and  flut 
tering,  and  said  that  joy  and  sorrow  had 
woven  a  mingled  wreath  to  crown  this  day, 
but  that  it  was  the  proudest  one  of  his  life, 


286  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL' 

and  that  the  proudest  action  of  that  life  was 
to  open  the  Captain  and  Mrs.  Ethan  Tree 
Museum  of  Quahaug. 

And  then  —  then  every  one  sang  the  Ode. 
Mr.  Homer  had  written  the  words,  and  Mr. 
Pindar  set  them  to  music,  and  words  and 
music  were  printed  on  white  silk  and  dis 
tributed  as  souvenirs.  The  two  brothers  did 
not  know  that,  when  the  music  began,  they 
took  hold  of  hands,  and  stood  so  all  through, 
waving  their  free  arms  and  bowing  their 
heads  in  time  to  the  melody,  and  opening 
and  shutting  their  mouths;  but  the  rest  of 
the  company  knew  it,  and  cried  so  that  they 
could  hardly  sing. 

These  are  the  words: 


AFTER  ALL!  287 

ODE 

FOR    THE    OPENING    OF    THE    CAPTAIN    AND    MRS. 
ETHAN    TREE    MUSEUM   OF    QUAHAUG 

As  smooth  the  bivalve  opes  its  jawa, 

Admitting  crystal  flood, 
So  opes  our  own  Museum  its  doors 

To  all  of  native  blood. 
On  honored  bier  we  drop  the  tear> 

And  then,  with  joy  agog, 
Our  village  proud  doth  cry  aloud, 

Quahaug  1  (bang  !)  Quahaug  I  (bang  !)  Quahaug  ! 

Our  patroness  we  fondly  bless, 

And  likewise  honor  him 
Who  filled  so  free  this  treasury, 

Then  sought  the  cherubim. 
Of  objects  fair,  so  rich  and  rare, 

Description  would  but  clog ; 
So  let  us  sing  till  welkin  ring, 

Quahaug !  (bang !)  Quahaug !  (bang !)  Quahaug  I 

Captain  and  Mrs.  Ethan  Tree 

We  honor  so  this  day, 
As  Muses  nine,  with  fire  divine, 

Alone  could  fitly  say. 

•/  «/ 

Yet  still  each  heart  would  bear  its  part, 

With  this  for  epilogue  : 
While  life  remains  we'll  praise  thy  plains, 

Quahaug  !  (bang  !)  Quahaug !  (bang  !)  Quahaug  ! 


288  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

(The  "  bangs "  were  not  printed  on  the 
souvenirs,  but  without  them  one  does  not 
get  the  effect  of  the  cymbals,  which  really 
were  superb.) 

And  then  the  Museum  was  open,  and  the 
village  flowed  in  through  the  rooms,  exam 
ining,  wondering,  praising.  It  was  really 
a  fine  collection,  and  beautifully  arranged. 
Mr.  Homer  and  Tommy  Candy  had  been  at 
work  for  a  month,  with  much  help  from  the 
Jaquiths  and  Annie  Lizzie,  and  everything 
was  classified  and  marked,  and  displayed  to 
the  best  advantage.  In  one  room,  the  "  Cap 
tain's  room,"  were  the  samples  of  wood, 
smooth  little  slabs  of  ebony,  satinwood, 
violet,  leopard,  dragon,  sandal,  and  every 
other  known  wood,  polished  till  they  shone 
like  wooden  mirrors.  In  another  were  the 
minerals:  rough  crystals,  rose  and  amethyst, 
smoky  yellow  and  clouded  brown ;  nuggets 
of  gold,  of  silver,  of  copper;  uncut  gems  of 


AFTER  ALL!  289 

every  variety,  from  the  great  ruby  that  Cap 
tain  Tree  took  from  the  Malay  pirate's  tur 
ban  down  to  the  pink  and  lilac  pearls  found 
in  our  own  oysters  and  mussels  in  Quahaug 
harbor. 

The  carved  crystal,  jade,  ivory,  and  am 
ber,  and  the  enamels,  were  displayed  in  the 
parlor,  and  were  so  skilfully  arranged  that 
the  character  of  the  room  was  not  changed, 
only  the  dim  richness  accentuated.  The 
light  fell  softly  on  bowls  and  cups  of  trans 
lucent  green,  on  the  rounded  backs  of  ivory 
elephants,  on  exquisite  shapes  of  agate, 
jasper,  and  chalcedony,  on  robes  stiff  with 
gold  and  crusted  with  gems;  but  still  it 
was  Mrs.  Tree's  own  parlor,  and  still  the 
principal  thing  in  it  was  the  ebony  chair, 
with  the  crutch-stick  leaning  against  it. 

The  shells,  in  glass  cases,  lined  the  sides 
of  the  long  room  known  as  the  Workshop ; 


290  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

and,  as  Seth  said,  "  Gosh !  if  they  didn't 
beat  the  everlastin'  Dutch !  " 

"  Why,"  he  said,  turning  to  Salem  Rock, 
who  was  behind  him  in  the  slowly  moving 
throng  that  filled  the  room,  "  you  wouldn't 
think,  to  look  at  all  these,  that  that  man  had 
done  anything  all  his  life  only  pick  up 
shells." 

"  He  certingly  was  the  darndest !  "  replied 
Salem,  soberly. 

"  I  wouldn't  use  language,  Pa !  "  said 
Mrs.  Rock,  who  rustled  beside  him  in  her 
best  black  silk. 

"  I  expect  you  would,  Ma,"  retorted  her 
husband,  "  if  things  came  home  to  you  as 
they  do  to  me  this  day.  They  had  that  way 
with  'em,  both  Cap'n  and  Mis'  Tree,  that 
when  we  had  shore  leave,  and  they  said: 
1  Pick  up  some  shells,  will  you,  boys  ? '  that 
was  every  livin'  thing  ary  man  aboard  that 
ship  desired  to  do.  Jerusalem!  I  can  feel 


AFTER   ALL!  291 

the  crick  in  my  back  still,  stoopin'  over  them 
blazin'  beaches,  pickin'  up  —  Here,  Ma ! 
look  at  this  beauty,  with  the  pink  and  yeller 
stripes.  See  them  sharp  spines,  and  one  of 
'em  broke  off?  Wai,  that  broke  off  in  my 
foot.  It  was  wropped  up  in  seaweed,  and  I 
trod  square  on  it.  I  don't  know  as  it  would 
be  real  becomin'  to  repeat  what  I  said,  here 
and  now." 

"  I  don't  know  as  it  would  be  real  im- 
provin'  to  hear  it,  either,  Pa !  "  replied  his 
consort,  calmly.  "  Let's  us  move  on  a  mite 
further,  shall  we  ?  " 

Refreshments  were  served  in  the  dining- 
room  and  on  the  broad  piazza  outside  it, 
and  here  Direxia  Hawkes  was  in  her  glory. 
The  ladies  might  sit  at  the  tables,  and  did 
so,  Miss  Bethia  Wax  pouring  tea,  Mrs.  Bliss 
coffee,  while  Miss  Slocum  and  Miss  Goby 
simpered  and  bridled,  twin  sirens  of  the 
lemonade  table;  but  Direxia's  Dramatic 


292  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

Moment  had  struck,  and  she  was  taking  full 
advantage  of  it.  She  had  assumed  the  rigid 
little  bonnet  and  cape,  which  were  her  badge 
of  equality  with  anybody  in  the  land  except 
"  the  Family,"  and  she  moved  among  the 
guests,  apparent  queen.  Annie  Lizzie,  all 
smiles  and  roses,  came  and  went  at  her  bid 
ding,  with  a  tendency  to  gravitate  toward 
the  piazza  railing,  on  which  Tommy  Candy 
sat,  beaming  good-will  to  all  mankind,  la 
dling  out  frozen  pudding  and  ice-cream  from 
the  great  freezers. 

"  Annie  Lizzie,  Miss  Wax  ain't  eatin'  a 
thing.  You  tell  her  to  let  the  folks  wait  for 
their  tea  a  spell,  and  have  somethin'  herself. 
Here !  take  her  this  orange  cream,  and  tell 
her  I  made  it,  and  I  expect  her  to  eat  it. 
And  —  Annie  Lizzie,  look  here !  you  tell 
Mr.  Homer  I  don't  want  he  should  touch 
that  frozen  puddin'.  It's  too  rich,  tell  him ; 
but  he  can  have  all  the  strawberry  and  va- 


AFTER   ALL!  293 

nilla  he  wants.  I  ain't  goin'  to  have  him 
sick  after  this,  all  worked  up  as  he  is." 

There  were  forty-seven  different  kinds  of 
cake,  all  "  named  varieties,"  as  the  flower 
catalogues  say.  Every  housewife  in  the  vil 
lage  had  sent  her  "  specialty,"  from  Miss 
Wax's  famous  harlequin  round  down  to  the 
Irish  christening  loaf  of  good  old  Mrs. 
Flanagan,  the  laundress,  who  was  helping 
Diploma  Grotty  wash  cups  and  plates  in  the 
kitchen.  Mrs.  Flanagan  refused  to  come  in, 
spite  of  Mr.  Homer's  urgent  invitation. 

"  I  thank  ye,  dear !  "  she  said.  "  I  thank 
ye  kindly,  but  I'll  not  come  in  among  the 
Quality.  I  wish  ye  well,  Mr.  Homer.  May 
no  dog  ever  bite  ye  but  mine,  and  I'll  kape 
a  cat !  " 

Through  the  crowd,  here  and  there,  moved 
Mr.  Homer  and  Mr.  Pindar,  bowing  and 
smiling,  waving  and  flapping,  happiest  of 
all  the  happy  throng.  Under  the  genial  sun 


294  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

of  cheer  and  encouragement  that  had  been 
shining  on  him  during  the  last  two  weeks, 
since  the  Procession  had  been  given  up,  Mr. 
Pindar  had  grown  less  and  less  abrupt  and 
jerky,  and  more  and  more  like  his  brother; 
and  the  village  readily  accorded  him  a  share 
of  the  benevolent  affection  with  which  they 
regarded  Mr.  Homer. 

"  I  always  said  there  warn't  a  mite  of 
harm  in  Home,"  said  Seth  Weaver,  "  and 
I  begin  to  think  there  ain't  none  in  Pindar, 
either.  They  come  out  the  same  nest,  and 
I  expect  they're  the  same  settin'  of  aigs,  if 
they  be  speckled  different.  Hatched  out 
kinder  queer  chicks,  old  Mis'  Hollopeter  did, 
but,  take  'em  all  round,  I  dunno  but  they're 
full  as  good  as  barn-door  fowls,  and  they  cer- 
tingly  do  better  when  it  comes  to  crowin'." 

"  That's  right !  "  said  Salem  Eock. 

And  when  at  last  it  was  over,  and,  with 
hand-shakings  and  congratulations,  the  tide 


AFTER  ALL!  295 

of  visitors  had  flowed  out  through  the  door 
and  down  the  garden  path,  the  two  brothers 
stood  and  looked  at  each  other  with  happy 
eyes. 

"It  has  been  a  great  occasion,  Brother 
Pindar !  "  said  Mr.  Homer. 

"  It  has !  "  said  Mr.  Pindar,  fervently. 
"  Flourish  of  trumpets.  Enter  Herald  pro 
claiming  victory.  It  has  been  a  Dramatic 
Moment,  sir." 

"  It  has  been  the  happiest  occasion  of  my 
life !  "  Mr.  Homer  went  on.  "  I  wish 
Mother  could  have  been  present,  Pindar; 
it  would  have  been  a  gratification  to  her ;  — 
a  —  an  oblectation ;  —  a  —  a  —  but  where 
are  you  going,  my  dear  brother  ?  " 

Mr.  Pindar,  before  replying,  cast  a  glance 
toward  the  garden  gate,  through  which  at 
that  moment  a  tall,  slender  figure  was  pass 
ing  slowly,  almost  lingeringly;  then  he  met 
his  brother's  eye  hardily. 


296  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  Brother  Homer,"  he  said,  and,  though 
he  blushed  deeply,  his  voice  was  firm  and 
cheerful,  "  I  am  going  to  see  Bethia  home !  " 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MARRIAGE    BELLS 

THE  village  certainly  had  never  seen  a 
summer  like  this.  People  had  not  stopped 
talking  of  the  Celebration,  when  the  news 
of  Miss  Wax's  engagement  to  Mr.  Pindar 
Hollopeter  set  the  ball  of  conversation  roll 
ing  again.  Everybody  was  delighted;  and 
Mrs.  Weight  was  not  the  only  lady  in  the 
village  who  secretly  hoped  that,  now  Pindar 
had  set  him  the  example,  Homer  would  see 
his  way  to  following  it,  and  would  provide 
him  with  a  helpmeet,  "  one  who  had  ben 
through  trouble  and  knew  how  to  feel  for 
him." 

Mr.    Pindar   was    an    ardent   wooer,    and 
297 


298  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

pressed  for  an  early  marriage ;  indeed,  there 
seemed  no  reason  for  delay.  They  were  to 
live  at  the  "  Wax  Works,"  and  Mr.  Pindar 
was  to  give  lessons  in  elocution,  and  also  on 
the  flute  and  hautboy,  if  pupils  could  be 
found.  Miss  Bethia  sighed  gently,  and  told 
Mr.  Pindar  he  was  too  impetuous;  but  she 
finally  yielded,  and  they  were  married 
quietly  one  day,  in  the  quaint,  pleasant 
parlor,  the  bride  dignified  and  gracious  in 
lavender  satin,  and  the  bridegroom  resplen 
dent  in  white  waistcoat  and  pearl-colored  tie. 
He  had  a  brand-new  flyaway  cloak  for  the 
occasion,  and  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to 
lay  it  aside  during  the  ceremony,  for,  as 
he  said,  it  assisted  him  in  expression,  sir, 
in  expression. 

Mr.  Homer  was  best  man,  and  never  was 
that  usually  lugubrious  part  more  radiantly 
filled.  He  accompanied  the  whole  service 
in  dumb  show,  bowing  and  waving  in  re- 


MARRIAGE   BELLS  289 

sponse  to  every  clause ;  and  Geoffrey  Strong 
declares  that  when  he  came  forward  to  give 
the  bride  away,  he  heard  Mr.  Homer  mur 
mur  "  until  death  do  us  part,"  in  happy  echo 
of  his  brother's  response. 

Then  the  bridal  pair  went  off  on  a  bridal 
trip,  and  the  village  shouted  and  cheered 
after  them ;  and  Mr.  Homer  went  home  and 
wept  tears  of  joy  on  the  back  porch. 

Amid  the  general  rejoicing,  one  face  was 
grave,  or  smiled  only  a  perfunctory  smile 
when  occasion  required  it ;  this  was  the  face 
of  Thomas  Candy.  It  was  such  an  extraor 
dinary  thing  for  Tommy  to  be  grave  on  any 
festive  occasion  that  Mr.  Homer  noticed 
it,  and  took  him  gently  to  task,  as  they 
sat  on  the  aforesaid  porch  that  evening. 
"  Thomas,"  said  the  little  gentleman,  "  you 
appear  pensive.  You  have  not  seemed  to 
enjoy,  as  I  expected,  this  festival ;  this  — 
a  —  halcyon,  I  might  almost  say,  millennial 


300  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

day.  Is  there  any  oppression  on  your  spirits, 
my  dear  young  friend  ?  " 

Tommy  rumpled  his  black  hair,  and  cast 
a  look  at  Mr.  Homer,  half-whimsical,  half- 
sorrowful.  "  I  s'pose  it's  all  right,  sir !  " 
he  said,  slowly.  "  Of  course  it's  all  right 
if  you  say  so ;  but  —  the  fact  is,  I'd  planned 
otherwise  myself,  and  I  s'pose  there  ain't 
any  one  but  thinks  his  own  plan  is  the  best. 
The  fact  is,  Mr.  Homer,  J  hoped  to  see  Miss 
Wax  in  this  house,  instead  of  Mr.  Pindar 
bein'  in  hers." 

"  Indeed,  Thomas !  "  said  Mr.  Homer. 
"How  so?" 

"  There's  no  harm  in  speakin'  of  it  now, 
as  I  see,"  said  Tommy.  "  Fact  is,  Mr. 
Homer,  you  need  somebodys  else  in  this 
house  beside  Direxia ;  some  woman,  I  mean, 
to  make  things  as  they  should  be  for  you. 
Direxia's  fine,  and  I  think  everything  of 
her,  but  she's  old,  and  —  well,  there !  there'd 


MARRIAGE   BELLS  301 

oughter  be  somebodys  else,  that's  all,  if  'twas 
only  to  keep  the  rest  of  'em  off;  and  there 
was  only  one  in  this  village  that  I  could  see 
anyways  suitable,  and  that  was  Miss  Wax. 
So  I  picked  her  out,  and  got  my  mind  made 
up  and  all,  and  then  along  come  Mr.  Pindar 
and  whisked  her  off  under  our  noses,  so  to 
say.  I've  nothin'  against  Mr.  Pindar,  he's 
all  right ;  but  it  was  a  disappointment,  Mr. 
Homer,  and  I  can't  make  believe  it  wasn't. 
There  ain't  another  woman  in  this  village 
that  Mis'  Tree  would  see  set  over  this  house," 
said  Tommy  Candy,  with  simple  finality. 

Mr.  Homer  smiled,  and  patted  Tommy's 
arm  cheerfully.  "  Things  are  much  better 
as  they  are,  Thomas,"  he  said ;  "  far  better, 
I  assure  you.  Besides,  I  have  other  thoughts 
—  a  —  fancies  —  a  —  conceptions,  in  re 
gard  to  this  house ;  thoughts  which,  I  fancy, 
would  not  have  been  disapproved  by  —  as 
my  brother's  bride  says,  by  Her  we  honor. 


302  MBS.    TREE'S    WILL 

I  have  felt  as  you  do,  my  young  friend,  the 
want  of  —  a  —  gracious  and  softening  influ 
ence,  —  in  short,  the  influence  of  Woman, 
sir,  in  this  house;  but  this  influence  has 
suggested  itself  to  me  in  the  guise  of  youth 
• —  of  —  a  —  beauty ;  of  —  a  —  the  morn 
ing  of  life,  sir,  the  morning  of  life.  I  have 
thought  —  fancied  —  in  short,  —  how  would 
you  like,  sir,  to  see  our  charming  neighbor 
across  the  way  established  in  this  house  ?  " 

Tommy  looked  at  him,  stupefied.  "  Mrs. 
Weight !  "  he  cried. 

But  Mr.  Homer  waved  the  thought  away 
indignantly.  "  No,  no,  Thomas !  how  could 
you  suppose  —  not  for  an  instant !  —  in 
fact,  it  was  partly  with  a  view  to  removing 
her  from  —  sordid  and  sinister  surround 
ings,  that  this  idea  suggested  itself  to  me. 
What  would  you  say  to  Annie  Lizzie, 
Thomas?" 

Mr.    Homer  beamed,    and  bent   forward, 


MARRIAGE  BELLS  303 

rubbing  his  hands  gently,  and  trying  to  see 
Tommy's  face  through  the  gathering  dusk. 

Tommy  grew  very  pale. 

"  Annie  Lizzie !  "  he  said,  slowly. 

"  Annie  Lizzie !  "  repeated  Mr.  Homer, 
with  animation.  "  I  have  watched  that 
young  person,  Thomas,  since  her  early  child 
hood.  I  have  seen  her  come  up  as  a  flower, 
sir,  in  an  arid  waste;  as  a  jewel  of  gold  in 
a  —  But  I  would  not  be  discourteous.  To 
remove  this  sweet  creature  from  uncongenial 
surroundings;  to  transplant  the  blossom  to 
more  grateful  soil,  if  I  may  so  express  my 
self  ;  to  beds  of  amaranth  and  moly  —  I 
speak  in  metaphor,  sir;  to  see  it  unfold 
its  vermeil  tints  beneath  the  mellow  rays 
of  —  a  —  the  tender  passion  —  would  give 
me  infinite  gratification.  It  would  be  my 
study,  sir,  to  make  her  happy.  What  do 
you  —  how  does  this  strike  you,  my  dear 
young  friend  ?  But  perhaps  I  have  been  too 


304  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

sudden,  Thomas.  Take  time,  sir.  Consider 
it  a  little." 

Thomas  Candy  rose  slowly  and  painfully. 
"  Thank  you,  sir !  "  he  said,  speaking  slowly 
and  steadily.  "  I  will  take  a  little  time,  if 
you  please.  It  is  —  rather  sudden,  as  you 
say." 

Leaning  heavily  on  his  stick,  the  young 
man  walked  slowly  down  the  garden  path, 
and  stood  by  the  garden  gate,  looking  across 
the  way. 

Annie  Lizzie !  Annie  Lizzie  marry  Mr. 
Homer !  the  thought  was  monstrous.  An 
nie  Lizzie,  only  seventeen,  a  little  soft,  sweet 
rose,  his  own  little  sweetheart.  Good  heav 
ens  !  could  such  a  thing  exist  even  as  a  dream 
in  any  human  brain  ? 

Then  other  thoughts  came ;  ugly  thoughts, 
which  forced  their  way  to  the  front  in  spite 
of  him.  Mr.  Homer  was  rich  now,  rich 
and  kind  and  generous.  Women  liked  money, 


MARRIAGE  BELLS  305 

people  said:  Annie  Lizzie  had  been  bitter 
poor  all  her  life,  had  never  had  a  penny 
to  call  her  own;  might  she  be  tempted? 
And,  if  she  were,  had  he  the  right  to  stand 
in  her  way?  Was  he  sure,  sure,  that  her 
love  for  him,  the  love  that  he  had  taken  for 
granted  as  he  took  the  sunlight,  would  stand 
the  test? 

Faster  and  uglier  came  the  hateful 
thoughts ;  he  could  almost  see  them  as  visible 
forms,  with  wicked,  sneering  faces.  Was 
this  why  she  had  been  so  attentive  to  Mr. 
Homer  of  late,  running  in  and  out  of  the 
house  on  this  or  that  pretended  errand,  coax 
ing  Direxia  to  let  her  help  with  the  work, 
begging  a  flower  from  the  garden,  a  root 
from  the  vegetable  border?  He  had  never 
doubted  that  it  was  on  his  own  account  she 
came.  Was  she  false  and  shallow,  as  well 
as  sweet  and  soft  and  — 

Tommy  Candy  never  knew  how  long  he 


306  MES.    TREE'S    WILL 

stood  there  at  the  garden  gate,  watching  the 
house  across  the  way,  where  a  slender  shape 
flitted  to  and  fro  in  the  lamplight.  But  by 
and  by  he  struck  his  stick  into  the  gravel 
and  came  back  with  a  white  set  face,  and 
stood  before  Mr.  Homer,  who  was  rocking 
happily  in  his  chair  and  repeating  the  "  Ode 
to  a  Nightingale." 

"  Mr.  Homer,"  he  said,  and  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice  the  little  gentleman  stopped 
rocking  and  looked  up  in  alarm :  "  when  it 
comes  to  things  like  this,  it's  man  to  man, 
I  expect.  If  Annie  Lizzie  wants  to  marry 
you,  I  won't  stand  in  her  way.  I'll  take 
myself  and  my  stick  off  out  o'  sight  some- 
wheres,  where  she'll  never  hear  of  neither 
one  of  us  again.  But  if  —  " 

He  stopped  short ;  for  Mr.  Homer  had 
risen  to  his  feet  in  great  agitation,  and  was 
Waving  his  hands  and  blinking  painfully 
through  the  dusk. 


MARRIAGE    BELLS  307 

"  My  dear  young  friend !  "  he  cried. 
"  My  dear  but  mistaken  young  friend,  you 
distress  me  infinitely.  You  do  not  think  — 
it  cannot  be  possible  that  you  think  that  this 
poor  child  has  —  has  formed  any  such  — 
such  monstrous  conception  ?  If  I  thought 
so,  I  should  resign  my  being,  —  a  —  cease 
upon  the  midnight,  not  without  pain,  but 
unspeakably  the  reverse.  It  is  a  most  ex 
traordinary  thing  that  twice  within  a  single 
summer  I  should  have  been  exposed,  sir,  to 
a  misapprehension  of  this  amazing,  this  —  a 
—  portentous,  this  —  a  —  unspeakably  in 
auspicious  description.  I  am  not  a  marry 
ing  man,  Thomas.  Though  regarding  the 
Sex  with  the  deepest  veneration,  sir,  I  have 
for  many  years  regarded  it  across  a  gulf, 
if  I  may  so  express  myself ;  a  chasm,  sir ; 
a  —  a  —  maelstrom  of  separation,  to  speak 
strongly.  Your  suggestion  fills  me  with 
pain ;  with  —  anguish ;  with  —  a  —  gorgons 


308  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

and  chimera  dire  —  meaning  no  disparage 
ment  to  the  young  person  in  question.  I  had 
thought,  Thomas,  —  I  had  conceived,  —  I 
had  formed  the  apprehension,  sir,  that  she 
was  attached  to  you,  and  that  you  admitted 
the  soft  impeachment;  that  your  heart  re 
sponded  to  the  —  a  —  soft  flutings  of  the 
tender  passion.  I  thought  to  see  you  wedded, 
and  sharing  my  home,  being  as  son  and 
daughter  to  me.  I  —  I  —  I  —  " 

Mr.  Homer's  voice  faltered.  But  Tommy 
Candy  caught  the  distressedly  waving  hands 
in  his. 

"  Mr.  Homer,"  he  cried,  with  a  broken 
laugh,  "  don't,  sir !  don't  take  on !  I'm  a 
fool,  that's  all,  the  biggest  fool  the  world 
holds  this  minute.  I've  loved  Annie  Lizzie 
ever  since  I  was  ten  years  old,  and  I  believe 
she  has  me." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE    LAST    WORD 

"  COME  back,  have  they  ? "  said  Seth 
Weaver.  Seth  was  painting  the  outside  of 
Miss  Penny  Pardon's  shop,  and  Miss  Penny 
was  hopping  in  and  out,  hovering  about  the 
door  like  a  lame  robin,  dividing  her  atten 
tion  between  Seth  and  the  birds. 

"  Wai,  have  'em  a  good  time,  did  they  ? " 
"  Elegant !  "  replied  Miss  Penny,  joy 
ously.  "  They  had  them  an  elegant  time, 
Seth.  Miss  Wax  —  There !  look  at  me ! 
and  I  said  '  Mis'  Hollopeter '  just  as  slick 
when  she  come  in !  She  was  in  this  mornin', 
to  tell  Sister  about  the  latest  styles.  I 

thought  'twas  real  kind  of  her,  with  all  she 
309 


310  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

had  to  think  of  in  her  golden  joy.  Folks 
Is  so  kind,  I  don't  see  how  it  conies  to  be 
such  a  wicked  world  as  some  calls  it.  Well, 
she  told  us  all  about  it.  They  went  to  Ni- 
ag'ry  Falls  first.  He  was  wishful  to  take 
her  to  Washin'ton,  but  she  said  Nature  come 
first  in  her  eyes,  even  before  Gov'ment;  she 
has  fine  thoughts,  and  an  elegant  way  of 
expressin'  'em,  I  always  think.  There !  she 
said  the  Falls  was  handsome !  'twas  beyond 
the  power  of  thought,  she  said.  Ain't  you 
gettin'  jest  a  dite  too  much  red  in  that  trim- 
min',  Seth?" 

"  I  guess  not !  "  said  Seth.  "  You  don't 
want  it  to  look  like  you  was  advertisin'  a 
new  brand  of  mustard,  do  ye  ?  Where  else 
did  they  go?" 

"  They  went  to  New  York,"  said  Miss 
Penny.  "  It  was  there  she  see  the  styles. 
Went  to  the  theatre,  and  to  Central  Park, 
and  walked  down  Fifth  Avenue;  and  his 


THE  LAST   WOED  311 

friends  give  them  a  testimonial  dinner,  and 
—  oh,  it  was  lovely  to  hear  her  tell  about 
it.  I  declare,  I  should  like  to  go  to  New 
York  some  day  myself.  Big  sleeves  is  comin' 
in  again ;  not  that  you  care  about  that,  Seth, 
but  Sister  was  real  pleased  to  know  it.  And 
Mr.  Pindar  has  commenced  to  flesh  up  some 
already,  Mis'  Hollopeter  says.  He  was  as 
poor  as  a  split  flounder,  you  know:  hadn't 
ben  nourished  good  for  years,  she  thinks. 
There !  Men-folks  don't  know  how  to  feed 
themselves,  seems  though,  no  more  nor  birds 
doos.  Take  that  parrot  there;  you'd  think 
he'd  know  by  this  time  that  fresh  paint  don't 
agree  with  him  real  well,  yet  he'll  get  at 
it  and  chaw  it  every  chance  he  gets,  and  then 
has  to  come  to  me  for  doctorin' ;  it's  the 
same  with  men-folks,  the  best  of  'em.  But 
Mr.  Pindar'll  get  the  best  of  victuals  from 
now  on !  "  Miss  Penny  concluded  with  an 
emphatic  nod. 


312  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  She  don't  want  to  feed  him  too  high  all 
of  a  suddin,"  said  Seth,  drawing  his  brush 
carefully  round  a  window-casing.  "  He 
might  go  the  way  of  Job  Joralemon's 
hoss." 

"  What  way  was  that  ? "  asked  Miss 
Penny,  pausing  with  a  cage  in  her  hand. 
"  Who  is  Job  Joralemon  ?  I  don't  know  as 
I  ever  heard  of  him." 

"  He  was  a  man  over  to  Tinkham  Cor 
ners,"  said  Seth.  "  Meanest  man  in  them 
parts,  where  they  get  the  gold  medal  for 
meanness  every  year,  some  say.  Come  along 
a  man  one  day,  travellin'  man,  lookin'  for 
a  hoss  to  buy.  His  hoss  had  died,  or  run 
away,  or  ben  stole,  or  somethin',  I  dono  what. 
Anyways,  he  heard  Job  had  a  hoss  to  sell, 
and  come  to  look  at  him.  He  warn't  much 
of  a  one  to  look  at,  —  the  hoss,  I  mean, 
though  Job  warn't  no  Venus,  neither;  but 
this  man,  he  thought  likely  he  could  fat  him 


THE  LAST   WORD  313 

up  and  drive  him  a  spell,  till  he  got  through 
his  business,  and  then  sell  him  for  a  mite 
more  than  he  give  for  him.  Wai,  he  took 
the  hoss  —  he  was  stayin'  at  Howe's  Tavern 
over  there  —  and  give  him  a  good  solid  feed, 
hay  and  grain,  and  then  started  out  to  drive 
on  to  the  next  town.  Wai,  sir,  —  ma'am,  I 
should  say,  —  quick  as  he  got  out  the  yard, 
that  hoss  started  on  the  dead  run;  man 
couldn't  hold  him  any  more  than  you  could 
a  yearlin'  steer.  He  run  like  wild-fire  a  little 
ways,  and  then  he  clum  over  a  fence,  buggy 
and  all,  —  stump-fence  it  was,  —  and  then 
he  fell  down,  and  rolled  over,  and  died,  then 
and  there.  The  man  collected  himself  out 
of  the  kindlin's,  and  looked  round,  and  see 
old  Rowe,  the  tavern-keeper,  comin'  up, 
grinnin'  all  over. 

"  '  What  does  this  mean  ? '  the  man  hollers 
out,  mad  as  hops.  t  What  kind  of  a  hoss 
do  you  call  this  ? '  he  says. 

«/  i/ 


314  3lJiS.    TREE'S    WILL 

"  Old  Howe  kinder  grunts.  '  I  call  that 
a  sawdust  boss,'  he  says. 

"  '  Sawdust  Granny !  '  says  the  man. 
'  What  d'ye  mean  by  that  ? ' 

"  '  Wai !  '  says  old  Rowe.  '  Fact  is,  Job's 
ben  in  the  habit  of  feedin'  sawdust  to  that 
boss,  and  keepin'  green  goggles  on  him  so's 
he'd  think  'twas  grass.  Come  to  give  him 
a  good  feed,  ye  see,  and  'twas  too  much  for 
him,  and  car'd  him  off.' 

"  So  what  I  say  is,  you  tell  Mis'  Hollo- 
peter  she  wants  to  be  careful  how  she  feeds 
Pindar  up,  that's  all." 

"  Seth  Weaver,  if  you  ain't  the  beat !  " 
exclaimed  Miss  Penny.  "  I  believe  you 
made  that  up  right  here  and  now.  Ain't 
you  ashamed  to  tell  such  stories  ?  " 

"  Not  a  mite !  not  a  mite !  "  said  Seth, 
comfortably.  "  Take  more'n  that  to  shame 
me.  Ask  Annie  Lizzie  if  it  don't.  Here 
she  comes  along  now.  Ain't  she  a  pictur'  ? " 


THE  LAST    WORD  315 

Annie  Lizzie  came  blossoming  along  the 
street  in  her  pink  calico  dress;  her  pink 
sunbonnet  was  hanging  on  her  shoulders,  and 
her  soft  dark  hair  curled  round  her  face 
just  for  the  pleasure  of  it.  She  was  swing 
ing  a  bright  tin  pail  in  her  hand ;  altogether 
the  street  seemed  to  lighten  as  she  came 
along  it. 

"  Hello,  Annie  Lizzie !  "  said  Seth,  as  she 
came  up  to  the  shop.  "  Comin'  to  see  me, 
ain't  ye  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not !  "  said  Miss  Penny.  "  I 
expect  she's  come  to  see  me,  ain't  you,  Annie 
Lizzie  ?  I've  got  a  new  piece  of  ribbin  in, 
jest  matches  your  dress,  and  your  cheeks, 
too." 

Annie  Lizzie  dimpled  and  smiled  shyly. 
"  I'd  love  to  see  it,  Miss  Penny,"  she  said ; 
"  but  first  I  come  with  a  message  for  Mr. 
Weaver." 

"  Then  I'll  go  and  feed  the  rest  of  them 


316  MRS.    TREE'S    WILL 

birds,"  said  Miss  Penny.  "  There !  hear 
'em  hollerin'  the  minute  I  say  '  feed '  ? 
They  are  the  cutest !  " 

She  vanished  into  the  shop,  and  Seth 
looked  up  at  the  young  girl  with  a  friendly 
twinkle.  "  Back  stairs  again,  Annie  Liz  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  expect  to  get  at  'em  to-mor 
row,  honest  I  do." 

"  No,  sir,  'twasn't  the  stairs  this  time," 
said  Annie  Lizzie,  looking  down.  "  Ma 
didn't  know  I  was  comin',  or  she  might  have 
said  something.  I  come  with  a  message  from 
Tommy,  Mr.  Weaver.  He  wanted  to  know 
could  you  spare  him  some  white  paint." 

"  What  does  he  want  of  white  paint  ? " 
asked  Seth. 

"  Wants  to  paint  the  front  gate,"  replied 
Annie  Lizzie. 

"  Sho  !  "  said  Seth.  "  The  front  gate  was 
painted  only  last  fall.  There  ain't  no  need 
to  paint  it  ag'in  for  three  years." 


THE  LAST   WOED  317 

"  I  know !  "  said  the  girl,  patiently.  "  But 
all  the  same  he's  goin'  to  paint  it,  and  he 
wants  you  should  put  somethin'  in  it  so's 
it  won't  dry." 

"  So's  it  will  dry,  you  mean !  "  corrected 
Seth.  "  Tell  him  I  won't  do  it.  Hastenin' 
white  paint's  like  hastenin'  a  mud-turtle; 
it's  bad  for  his  constitution,  and  then  he 
don't  get  anywheres.  White  paint  has  to 
dry  slow,  or  it's  no  good.  You  tell  Tommy 
that,  and  tell  him  he'd  oughter  know  it, 
much  as  he's  hung  round  my  shop." 

"  He  doos  know  it !  "  said  Annie  Lizzie, 
in  her  cooing  voice.  "  lie  don't  want  it  to 
dry,  Mr.  Weaver." 

"  Don't  want  it  to  dry !  "  repeated  Seth. 

"  No,  sir.  He  said  I  might  tell  you,  so's 
you'd  understand;  he  knew  you  wouldn't 
let  it  go  no  further,  Mr.  Weaver.  Fact  is, 
he  wants  to  keep  folks  away  for  a  spell,  so's 
Mr.  Homer  can  get  rested  up.  He's  real 


318  MRS.  TREE'S    WILL 

wore  out  with  all  these  celebrations  and 
goin's  on,  and  he  has  so  many  callers  he  don't 
have  no  chance  to  live  hardly.  So  Tommy 
thought  if  he  could  paint  the  gate,  and  keep 
on  paintin'  it,  with  a  good  paint  that  lasted 
wet,  you  see,  it  would  —  Well,  what  he 
means  is,  —  there  couldn't  anybody  get  in 
but  what  had  pants  on.  It's  a  narrow  gate, 
you  know." 

"  I  know,"  said  Seth,  with  a  grim  twinkle. 
"  I  see.  That's  Tommy  Candy  all  over. 
Tell  him  I'll  fix  him  up  an  article  will  do 
the  business ;  he  needn't  have  no  fears.  But 
how  about  them  little  pink  petticuts  of  yourn, 
Annie  Lizzie  ?  I  dono  as  Tommy  is  so 
special  anxious  to  keep  them  out,  is  he  ?  " 

The  pink  of  Annie  Lizzie's  dress  was 
surely  not  a  fast  color,  for  it  seemed  to 
spread  in  a  rosy  cloud  over  her  soft  cheeks, 
up,  up,  to  the  soft  rings  of  hair  against  her 
forehead. 


THE  LAST   WORD  319 

"  Direxia's   real   good   to   me,"  she   said, 

simply.      "  She  lets  me   come   in  the   back 
gate." 


THE    HTTD. 


